


Latch

by hapakitsune



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Meet-Cute, Poor Life Choices, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2283690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler Seguin meets Hot Dad Andrew Ference on the T his first week in Boston.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latch

**Author's Note:**

> whoo boy I started this almost a year ago, mostly as a joke, and then I turned it into my big bang and like 25k later here it is in all it's terrible glory. massive, massive debts of gratitude to professorbutterscotch who is the andrew to my tyler in so many ways (as well as semi-literally) and audienced a large portion of this fic as it was being written, to my betas mistfarer and formerlydf, and to my artist ferrassie who has been incredibly patient with me even though I'm a hot mess and made this lovely mix which can be found [here](http://8tracks.com/ferrassie/family-tree). 
> 
> Names of non-famous family members have been intentionally changed.

Tyler is perhaps a little unreasonably excited to be in Boston, as a _real, genuine college student_ , and talking to people with real Boston accents. So far, Marchy has dealt with it with good grace, but Tyler thinks his overwhelming excitement at buying some baked beans may have pushed him over the line, because instead of walking back to Marchy's apartment, Marchy shoves him onto the train down by the Symphony. 

"Neat, the T!" Tyler says happily. He'd called it the subway at first, until Marchy shook his head at him and said he’d never fit in if he kept saying that. He bounces into the car and stands in front of the row of seats closest to the door. 

"You should probably hold on –" Marchy says, just as the train gives an almighty lurch. Tyler swears and flails out for something to hold onto. Instead, he overbalances and sprawls ungainly over the knee of the man sitting in the seat by the door. 

"Fuck," Tyler says to the floor and the ankle of his new friend. Then he registers the small, white shoes in his line of vision and says, "Oh, shit – um, shoot, sorry."

The knee beneath him shakes with laughter. "Usually I have to try a little harder to have people falling into my arms," says the man, hand landing on the back of his knee. "Do you need help up?

"I got him," Marchy says. He hooks his fingers into the back of Tyler's jeans, hauling him up onto his feet. "Sorry, he's a freshman."

"Sorry," Tyler says again, and then he actually gets a good look at the guy he'd fell on, and damn, talk about DILF. Tyler normally isn't into glasses, but with those ridiculous arms and that close-cropped hair and, god, totally sinful shirt, like, how does he go out in a shirt like that? He looks like a super hot librarian or a smart athlete. "At least I fell on someone hot."

"Jesus Christ," Marchy says. 

The two girls next to Hot Dad giggle and elbow each other. Tyler beams proudly at them. 

"And I'm sorry for swearing," he adds. 

"It's okay, Daddy says worse things all the time," the older girl says, and they start giggling again. 

Hot Dad rolls his eyes. "Lies," he says. "I'm Andrew, these hellions are Anna and Stacey."

"Tyler," Tyler says. "That dude is Marchy."

"Or, also, Brad," Marchy says, and when Tyler chances a look back at him, he looks like he's trying really hard not to laugh. 

"Freshman?" Hot Dad Andrew asks. "Where at?"

"BU," Tyler says proudly. "Marchy's showing me around. I've never been to Boston before."

"Boston's _great_ ," Anna says. "We used to live in Calgary –"

"You were a _baby_ ," Andrew says, ruffling her hair. "You don't remember Calgary."

"I _do_ ," Anna says stubbornly. "It was _terrible_."

"It wasn't terrible," says Andrew, looking at Tyler. 

"Hey man, I'm from Toronto, I don't have any love for you western Canadians." Tyler grins at Marchy. "Or Nova Scotia."

Marchy flips him off so the girls can't see.

"Watch it," Andrew says mildly. "I'm from Edmonton originally." He smiles up at Tyler. "But Boston is our home now, so I guess we're Bostonian."

" _I_ was born here," Stacey says smugly, lifting her chin. "I'm _American_."

"I've been trying to teach her that's nothing to be proud of." Andrew leans over to tickle her neck and she shrieks, squirming away. Tyler hangs on the pole and grins at them before making a silly face at Anna, who bursts into laughter and buries her face in her father's arm. 

"Daddy," Stacey says, trying to smack his hand away, "Daddy, this is our stop."

"Right." Andrew stands and waits for the girls to get up too. "It was nice meeting you, Tyler. You too, Brad."

Tyler glances up to see the name of the stop, not because he’s a stalker or anything, okay, he’s just curious. "Northeastern?"

"I'm an environmental sciences professor." Andrew pats his legs, then reaches in his pocket and produces a card. "If you need anything, like compost –"

"Or worms!" Stacey says. "We have a lot of worms."

Tyler laughs and takes the card. "Well, that's good, because I _love_ worms."

"Eww," Anna says. The doors open, and she starts tugging Andrew towards it. "Come _on_ , you promised we could get ice cream."

Andrew winks at Tyler. "See you around, maybe."

Tyler waves and watches them go. Once the doors close and the train lurches off again, he turns and sees Marchy staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"You're unbelievable," Marchy says. "Un-fucking-believable."

"What did I do?" Tyler demands, affronted. "Marchy!"

"You are such a ho," Marchy says. "He has _kids_."

"No wedding ring," Tyler points out, because, well, he happened to notice, okay, it's nothing to read into. "And we were just talking."

"Talking my ass," Marchy mutters. 

They bicker the entire way back to Marchy's apartment, where Marchy throws a pen at his roommate's head and says, "Yo, Adam, is this flirting?"

He acts out the scene from the train fairly accurately, though Tyler personally thinks he's overdoing it on the batting eyelashes front. Adam starts cracking up halfway through, and their third roommate takes off his headphones to glare at them with his terrifying Finnish death stare. 

"I am trying to make a mix," Tuukka says with dignity. 

"Shut up and back me up," Marchy says. "Was that flirting?"

"Dude, that was totally flirting," Adam says. "You really told some random dude on the T that he was hot?"

"He wasn't random! I fell on him." Tyler scowls at them. "You all suck."

"No, you do, and frequently," Adam says, and he pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek obscenely. 

"Dude, I met you like, two days ago," Tyler says. 

"I've seen your Facebook." Adam points at Marchy. "Plus, he has a big mouth."

"Sorry man," Marchy says when Tyler gives him a betrayed look. "Your summer-long period of self-discovery was too good not to share."

"I hate all of you, goodbye," Tyler says, and he starts to leave before remembering to ask, "So I should call him?"

"Yes," Adam says. 

"He has _kids_ ," Marchy says. Apparently that’s a big deal to him. 

"Will you just fucking leave?" Tuukka growls.

So Tyler leaves, mostly because he's genuinely terrified of Tuukka, and only gets lost twice on his way back to his dorm. His roommate is face down in his own bed – he had gone out the night before and hadn't come home until like five a.m. – and Tyler tiptoes to his desk before pulling out Andrew's card. 

_Andrew Ference, Environmentalist & Educator_, it says. On a whim, Tyler opens his browser and types Andrew's name in. 

To his surprise, a whole slew of information pops up, from articles about environmental initiatives at Northeastern to, surprisingly, something about working with the Boston Bruins to some older articles about protests and activism. There are also some excellent photos which, if Tyler were alone, would be perfect jerk-off material, namely Andrew in a very wet shirt and standing in what looks like a garden with a tomato plant in his arms. Tyler has never been aroused by fruit before but he's giving it a good try now. He presses the heel of his hand to his crotch for a moment of relief.

After some thinking, Tyler programs Andrew's number into his phone and sends a quick text – _Hey this is tyler from the t :) :)_

 __Then he wonders if the smiley faces are too juvenile. He's pretty sure he's at least ten years younger than Andrew, and if Andrew _was_ flirting, the last thing he wants is for him to remember that. Before he can think of a way to somehow make up for it, he gets back, _Hey Tyler from the T. :) Nice meet you today._  
 _  
_Tyler says, "Yes!" and fist pumps. His roommate groans miserably. Tyler bites his lip and whispers, “Sorry, Jamie.”

 _You too_ , he types back. _Hopefully we'll meet again_

 _My men's league team is playing Friday_ , Andrew sends. _You're Canadian, you must like hockey_.

 _Damn straight_ , Tyler sends. _Leafs for life_.

_Ugh. Toronto boy, I remember._

"Stop giggling," Jamie says blearily, and Tyler huddles in on himself to type back, _So whats the deal_.

 _The guy on the team with the most fans at the game gets a case of beer_ , Andrew writes. _You in?_

_Will I get some of the beer_

_You're what, eighteen?_

__Dammit, that was not where Tyler wanted this conversation to go. _Legal in Montreal_ , he points out.

_Sadly this is Boston. But I'll let you have a sip or two._

_Deal_. 

They work out the plans over the next few days. Tyler, following some debate with Marchy over the appropriate way to express interest, goes to the sorority house where Marchy's girlfriend lives and borrows cardstock, glitter pens, and some feathers. 

"Subtle you are not," March says when he sees the sign. Tyler grins and wiggles it so the _Nice (P)Ass Andrew!!_ sparkles in the light. 

"You sicken me," Tuukka intones, flipping down his sunglasses and looking very unimpressed. "Americans."

"Canadian," Marchy, Tyler, and Adam correct in unison. 

"I see no difference," Tuukka says grandly, and he leads the way onto the T. 

Andrew had said to look for his daughters, who would be with a bunch of his coworkers and friends up in the stands. Tyler spots them as when they come in by virtue of the fact that they also have a sparkly sign, though they used pink glitter instead of gold. Tyler heads over, waving, and the littler one –Stacey, Tyler remembers – waves back. 

"Hello beautiful girls," Tyler says, beaming as they scoot down to give him room. "What a great sign!”

“Hi Tyler,” Anna says, scooting over to make room for him. “Did you make Daddy a sign too?”

“Err,” Tyler says, suddenly regretting his choice of wording. “Yes?”

“Sit down,” Tuukka snaps. “We don’t have all day.”

Tyler takes a seat next to the girls and an older woman who introduces herself as one of Andrew’s coworkers. Tuukka, Marchy, and Adam fill in the rest of the row. Stacey starts telling Tyler about her day and how great her dad is at hockey. Tyler nods, only half-listening. He’s watching the ice, trying to figure out which one is Andrew. He asks her what number her dad wears, and she points out number 21 on the ice. 

“And he’s good,” she says. 

“I believe it,” Tyler says solemnly. 

The game is fun; nothing like an NHL or even a college game, but that makes it better. There are a lot goals, lots of chants, lots of scrums. Tyler cheers when Andrew drops the mitts with some goon on the other team that’s been harassing the skinny center, leaping to his feet. He immediately feels like he’s providing a poor example for Andrew’s girls, but they’re cheering just as loud. 

Andrew’s team wins by two goals and afterward Tyler lets the girls drag him down to the ice to say hello. He brings the sign. Andrew laughs and gives Tyler a sweaty hug. Tyler shamelessly buries his nose in Andrew’s damp neck, inhaling the familiar, awful smell of filthy hockey pads and good, well-earned sweat. Behind them, Brad lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Thanks for coming,” Andrew says when he steps back. “And you brought friends!”

“Yeah, you’ve met Brad, and this is Tuukka and Adam.” Tyler steps back as Andrew greets his friends, feeling obscurely proud and grown-up. Stacey tugs at his arm and asks for the bathroom and hot chocolate. After a glance at Andrew, who nods and gestures for one of his teammates’ wives to go with them, Tyler takes her and her sister’s hands and lets them lead him to the bathrooms. 

He waits politely outside until they’re finished and then takes them to the concessions stand to get them hot chocolate. He buys Mrs. Canter coffee, because he’s a nice guy like that, and makes chitchat about the game while the girls bicker over the virtues of marshmallows. He’s paying when Andrew reappears, freshly showered and carrying a case of beer. 

“Oh,” Andrew says. “You didn’t need to pay, especially after you won me this beer.”

“Do I get to have any?” Tyler asks hopefully. 

Andrew looks thoughtful and then smiles. “Why don’t you guys come over?”

Which is how Tyler ends up sitting with Tuukka, Adam, and Brad as well as a good portion of Andrew’s team out on the back patio of Andrew’s place. The girls are tucked away in bed, as it is far past their bedtime, and they had very politely thanked Tyler for buying them hot chocolate. It was adorable.

Tuukka is deeply involved in a discussion of music with the goalie and Brad and Adam are chatting to one of the defensemen, leaving Tyler free to scoot in close to Andrew, who is watching everyone with a vaguely paternal eye. Andrew looks at Tyler with a wry smile and says, “Enjoying that illegal beer I gave you?”

“It’s delicious,” Tyler says sincerely. “Thank you for breaking the law for me.” He gives Andrew what his oldest sister calls his “slut smile.” 

“Thank you for coming to the game.” Andrew tips his beer bottle against Tyler’s. “You play?”

“Not in a while.” Tyler yanks down the waistband of his jeans to show Andrew the scar on his right hip. “Skiing accident. Didn’t have much mobility for about a year afterward. Sucks, but that’s why I’m doing sports therapy.”

Andrew leans in. “Pretty nasty,” he observes. “You seem to get around okay now.”

“Tons of rehab,” Tyler says. “I can skate now, but not for super long. Maybe soon.”

“You should do yoga,” Andrew says. “It would help with your flexibility.”

“Yeah?” Tyler looks up through his lashes. “It _is_ good to be flexible.”

Andrew seems to realize how close he is, and he leans back, lifting his beer bottle to his mouth. Tyler thinks he can make out a faint flush across Andrew’s cheeks. “The girls like you.”

Good deflection, Tyler acknowledges. “They’re great,” Tyler says, going along with it. One of Andrew’s teammates is eying them curiously, so he eases back. “If you don’t mind my asking, are you raising them by yourself?”

“Their mom lives back in Calgary,” Andrew says. “We were high school sweethearts, you know? We split when the girls were little, before I moved here. She’s a snowboarder, so her job is a lot more flexible than mine. I have them during the school year and she visits when she can. It’s not perfect, but we’re doing the best we can.” He sounds sad, though, and Tyler reaches out to rub Andrew’s shoulder.

“Sucks,” he says. “My parents divorced when I was in middle school. Mostly lived with our mom, and I love her, but it was tough.”

“Yeah.” Andrew flashes Tyler a small smile. “Anyway, that was depressing. Tell me about college so far.”

Tyler launches into an explanation of exactly why he had chosen BU and how he had met Marchy, which takes them through to eleven at night, around the time the other guys are starting to stretch and make noises about going home. Tyler helps Andrew clean up the beer bottles, Tuukka and Adam having peaced out a good hour before, and lets Andrew detail his insanely complicated recycling system to Tyler. He admittedly gets distracted watching Andrew’s arms flex, but he mostly pays attention. 

“Thanks for having us over,” Tyler says after managing to sort the bottles out to Andrew’s specifications. “This has been fun. Let me know about your other games, yeah?”

“Really? You want to watch us play crappy men’s league hockey? You have BU.” But Andrew sounds pleased, and he’s smiling as he turns to lean against the counter. Tyler licks his lips and leans next to him, close enough that Andrew’s body heat warms his arm. “They play way better hockey than we do.”

“Yeah, but your games have better incentives,” Tyler says. Andrew shifts a little, looking up at Tyler. It’s funny; Tyler feels like he’s should be shorter than Andrew, maybe because Andrew’s so broad or maybe just because he’s older. Maybe because he kind of likes the idea of Andrew manhandling him around a bit. He feels warm. He’s probably bright pink and totally obvious. Andrew doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Yeah?” Andrew asks, gaze flicking down to Tyler’s mouth. Tyler is _not_ making that up. “Like?”

Tyler thinks, _fuck it_ , and says, “You.”

Andrew’s eyebrows go up, but he doesn’t stop smiling. He tilts towards Tyler, and Tyler is about to reach out to put his arms around Andrew’s neck – or maybe on his arms? – he can feel Andrew’s breath on his lips – when Marchy calls from the next room, “Yo, Tyler, we gotta go it we’re gonna make the last…train. Um.”

Tyler swears in his head as Andrew pulls back, flushed and not meeting Tyler’s eyes. He’s going to murder Marchy. “Fine, okay. I’ll be there in a second.”

“I’ll be waiting outside,” Marchy says. Tyler doesn’t bother looking around, just waits for Andrew to look back at him again. 

“Thanks again,” he says when Andrew finally looks at him. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah.” Andrew squeezes Tyler’s shoulder, awkward, then drops his hand. “See you, Tyler from the T.”

Tyler waves goodbye, biting the inside of his cheek, and follows Marchy outside. When he licks his lips, he tastes Andrew’s breath, lingering there like a kiss.

“Dude,” Marchy says when they’re a block away from Andrew’s house. “ _Dude_.”

“Don’t,” Tyler says. “I was _so close_ and then you ruined it.”

“He’s like twenty years older than you!”

“More like ten,” scoffs Tyler. “So what? Maybe I like ‘em mature. It’s like wine.”

“You drink boxed wine. I’ve seen you do it,” Marchy says. “Jesus, Tyler, you know how to pick ‘em, eh? Older dads, that’s your type.”

“Hot dads,” Tyler corrects. 

“Yeah,” Marchy says. “Whatever.” He flicks Tyler’s temple. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” Tyler says. 

 

Tyler doesn’t hear from Andrew later that week or the next. He tries not to be hurt by it – he knows he’s young and he knows Andrew seemed a little on edge about how aggressive Tyler was being. But Tyler knows what he likes and he knows what he wants and right now that is Andrew. Definitely for sex but maybe, just maybe for more, too. 

But maybe it’s for the best that Andrew isn’t calling, he tells himself as he works on his introductory biology classwork. His mom keeps reminding him to keep up with his classwork, and he’s determined to prove to himself that he’s more than just hockey. Never mind that Adam and Tuukka keep asking about “his older lover” and the rest of their friends seem to have caught on too, pointing out elderly men when they’re out and asking if Tyler wants to hit it. It’s kinda funny, but it would be a lot funnier if Tyler had managed to get a kiss out of Andrew. 

He’s working his way through a redox reaction when his phone buzzes. He picks it up, not looking away from his paper, and says, “’Sup.”

“Tyler? Is this Tyler?” 

Tyler sits up straight, jerking to attention at the panicked tone of Andrew’s voice. “Yeah, is everything all right?”

“I’m so sorry to ask this, but I didn’t know who else might be free. We’re having a last-minute department meeting and I need someone to watch the girls for a couple hours? Can you do it?”

Tyler stares at his phone, then pinches his arm. It hurts a lot. “Uh,” he says, bringing his phone back to his ear. “Sure.”

“Great,” Andrew says, relief palpable through the phone. “Do you remember how to get to my place?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says, gathering up his books and shoving his feet into his sandals. “I’ll be there in probably twenty minutes?”

“Thank you so much,” Andrew says, letting out a breath. “See you then.”

Tyler makes it to Andrew’s place in fifteen minutes and drops his backpack with a thud once he’s inside. Anna comes running up to him, yelling, “Tyler’s here!” before holding up her arms. Tyler picks her up and settles her on his hip, even though she’s definitely way too old to get away with that before looking for Andrew and Stacey. He finds them in the kitchen, Stacey poking around in the fridge while Andrew talks on the phone, pacing back and forth between the counter and the kitchen island. 

“—be right there,” he’s saying as Tyler enters the room. “I’m just waiting for – oh, here he is. I’ll be there in a few.”

Andrew hangs up and points at the fridge. “They haven’t eaten yet, but there’s leftovers in here. Emergency numbers are on the fridge, they can’t be up past –”

“Andrew,” Tyler interrupts. “I got it. I have little sisters.”

“Okay.” Andrew takes a breath. “Okay. I’ll be back before ten. Thanks. Be good,” he tells his girls, leaning down to kiss Stacey’s head and then Anna’s. “Don’t give Tyler any trouble.”

“Yes, Dad,” they say dutifully. Andrew nods and grabs his suit jacket. His trousers pulls across his ass nicely. Tyler resists the urge to wolf-whistle. 

“So,” Tyler says to the girls once Andrew is gone. “What do you want to do?”

Andrew’s girls are almost disgustingly well-behaved, but _merciless_ with the puppy dog eyes. Tyler has to stay strong as he goes through the fridge looking for food, because they keep asking him for pizza. “Your dad said leftovers,” Tyler says. 

They both pout but cheer when he lets them eat in the living room with him. He flips through the channels until he finds NESN and settles in to watch the Bruins play the Kings. Anna watches, slack-jawed, when Quick makes a particularly athletic save, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth. Tyler gently nudges it to her lips and nods, satisfied, when she starts eating again. He gets out his textbook and is frowning over the last problem when Stacey tugs at his sleeve. 

“Can we play a game?” she asks politely. 

“Sure,” Tyler says, grateful for the break. He flips off the TV and joins them on the floor. “What game do you want to play?”

“Pretty Pretty Princess!” yells Anna, taking off down towards the hall. 

“Put your plate away first!” Tyler calls after her. He waits for her to come back and hands her the dirty plate. “Both of you. Put them in the sink.”

When they come back, they’re carrying a battered and obviously much-loved box. They set it down between them and unfold the board before bossily explaining to Tyler how to play. Tyler, who has played the game many times, listens patiently before nodding and letting Anna spin first. 

They play three rounds, each of them winning one, and by the time Tyler is wearing the crown and heaped in jewelry, both of the girls are clearly trying to hold back yawns. He fakes a yawn of his own and says, “Gosh, I’m tired. What about you?”

Anna nods, but Stacey tries to put on a brave face. “I’m not,” she says before immediately yawning. Tyler nods. 

“Of course,” he says. “But I am, so I’m gonna go upstairs. You want to come too?”

After they’ve cleaned up the game and he’s herded them upstairs, even Stacey admits defeat. He gets both of them in bed and in their pajamas and heads back down to finish doing his homework. And maybe the Bruins game too.

He wakes up to Andrew’s hand on his shoulder, blinking sleepily at Andrew’s face. For a hallucinatory moment, he thinks of kissing Andrew hello, like he’s Andrew’s wife or something. Then his mind clears, and he sits up straighter. “Shit, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Andrew says, smiling. “You already went above and beyond what most people would.”

“It was fun,” Tyler says. “They’re fun.”

“Do you need a ride home?” Andrew doesn’t move. He’s standing over Tyler, knee pressed against Tyler’s inner thigh. “Or are you taking the T?”

“I was gonna take the T.” Tyler gets up, stretching the kinks from his back. He’s nearly chest to chest with Andrew. “How was the meeting?”

“Boring. Long.” Andrew finally steps away and leans down to pick up Tyler’s text book. “This yours?”

“Yeah.” Tyler hesitates, then says, “I’m gonna head out, unless there’s anything else?”

“Oh, right.” Andrew reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Let me pay you –”

“No, I can’t take it –”

“I insist –”

“Andrew, I’m not taking your money.” Tyler puts his hand on Andrew’s. “This was a favor.”

“Tyler,” Andrew sighs. 

“No.” Tyler curls his arm around Andrew’s back for a strange, awkward one-armed hug. “Night, Andrew.”

Andrew puts his free hand on Tyler’s waist, fingers spreading wide. Tyler shivers and holds himself back from leaning in to bury his nose in Andrew’s neck. He’s tired; that’s all it is. He knows better than to pull this after babysitting Andrew’s daughters but God, he wants. 

“Night, Tyler,” Andrew says in his ear. Tyler steps away and turns to leave; Andrew doesn’t follow him.

 

“So you’re literally the nanny now,” Marchy says over lunch. He stabs a piece of chicken and uses it to point. “You’re so weird, you know that?”

“I did a favor for a friend,” Tyler says, shrugging. “What’s weird about that?”

“Yes, because it’s totally normal to babysit for the guy you spent like three hours eye-fucking. Not to mention whatever happened at the end of the night.”

“Nothing happened!” Tyler says indignantly. 

“Oh, please.” Marchy rolls his eyes. “He was five seconds from taking you over the kitchen counter when I came in.”

“You think?” Tyler asks. 

Marchy shakes his head. “Just let me know if you want to double date with Shannon and me.”

Tyler wishes Marchy were right. Maybe there had been something there at first, but between that aborted kiss and the awkwardness of Andrew trying to pay him, whatever spark there had been has vanished. Marchy hasn’t seen the way Andrew was around him after that once moment. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. 

Tyler goes to a party over the weekend and hooks up with a guy named Fred, sleeping over in Fred’s dorm room before going out to grab breakfast together from the dining hall. Fred asks if maybe they could see each other again and nods when Tyler says no. 

“I kinda figured,” he said. “But it was fun.”

“We can totally hang out, though,” Tyler said hastily. “If you want.”

“Sure,” Fred says. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

They fist bump before parting ways. Tyler arrives back at his dorm to find Jamie smoking a joint out the window. He clears his throat, and Jamie bangs his head on the window as he tries to jerk back inside. He swears, nearly drops the joint, and then straightens up to look at Tyler guiltily. 

“Sorry?” he says. 

“You should be,” Tyler says. “You didn’t even tell me you had a hook-up. Or did you bring that from home? You’re a BC kid, aren’t you?”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Yes, I decided to risk deportation for a high.” He offers the joint to Tyler. 

They smoke in silence, leaning out the window to exhale the smoke, and when they finish, Jamie nods to Tyler. “So you have a good night?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Tyler says.

“Cool,” Jamie says, and he sits down at his desk to go back to studying. Tyler flicks the remnants of the joint into the trash and sacks out on his bed. Pot always makes him pretty tired, and before he knows it he’s half-asleep, memories of Fred’s hands on him turning into fantasies of Andrew.

 

College is tougher than movies had led Tyler to believe, but he discovers that he really likes his classes and he, maybe more importantly, really likes his class _mates_. He meets a couple of cool people in his biology section and studies with them on Thursdays; there’s a girl in his introductory writing class that he exchanges papers with; and he even meets a guy who knows how to get him a good fake in Chinatown. It’s great. He doesn’t have a ton of time to date, but that’s okay. Really.

His mom asks him to come home for Thanksgiving. He has midterms around the end of October, though, and doesn’t think he can miss classes. It sucks, because Thanksgiving was one of the things their family always made a point to do after his parents split. He always cut the turkey, his sisters made the sides, and Aunt Jill made the pie. Marchy, he knows, is heading to his girlfriend’s place for American Thanksgiving, Tuukka doesn’t even understand what Thanksgiving is, and Jamie is hanging with his older brother, so Tyler will probably end up spending the day in bed, eating Thai food and watching Littlest Hobo episodes on YouTube. 

And then he gets a text from Andrew saying, _Hey, you got any plans for Thanksgiving?_

 _Real or American,_ Tyler asks. 

_Real_ , Andrew says. _I have some other ex-pat friends. I host it every year._

 _Yeah sure,_ Tyler says. _Anything i should bring_

 _Yourself._ Andrew doesn’t send anything else, leaving Tyler staring at his screen and trying to figure out what that means, aside from the obvious.

So the Sunday of Thanksgiving, Tyler uses his shiny new fake to buy a bottle of wine for Andrew and, after thinking about it, a bouquet of flowers. He isn’t really sure what he’s expected to have. He hopes Andrew doesn’t laugh at him. He really hopes Andrew doesn’t have a partner he’s about to meet. He tries to make himself look good – he doesn’t want to seem out of place – but he slept on his hair funny and it’s sticking up like he’s Alfalfa and his nice jeans have a hole starting in the knee. 

He has to wait after ringing the doorbell. When the door swings open, it reveals a man Tyler absolutely does not recognize. He’s got a crooked nose and dark hair and, when he speaks, a slight Quebecois accent. 

“Hi,” he says. “I’m Patrice. Andrew is in the kitchen.”

Tyler juggles his bags around and offers his hand to shake Patrice’s. “I’m Tyler. Hi.”

“Do you want me to help you?” Patrice takes the bag with the wine without asking and gestures Tyler inside. He smells amazing. He’s also wearing suit pants and a shirt that reek of class and sophistication. Tyler kind of hates him. “I’ll open this up.”

“Okay,” Tyler says, distracted by smell of turkey and the sound of Andrew’s voice coming from the kitchen. “Are there other people here?”

“They’re out on the patio,” Patrice says. “I drew door duty.”

Tyler decides to investigate that later. He heads to the kitchen and watches Andrew for a minute, the strong curve of his back and the pull of his shoulders against his dress shirt. Anna is standing on a stepstool, Stacey beside her, and they’re watching avidly as Andrew stirs something in a bowl. Tyler’s hand is sweaty on the plastic of his bouquet. He clears his throat and waits for them to turn. 

“Tyler!” Anna exclaims excitedly, hopping down off the step stool. Tyler beams at her and crouches down to her level so she can throw her arms around his neck. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“You too, bug.” Tyler ruffles her hair gently, laughing when she squawks. “Look, I brought you guys something.” He holds out the flowers and scoots back a little so Stacey can come in to look at them too. He’s pretty proud of his selection. Roses seemed too much, so he had chosen the bright bouquet of fall-colored daisies and sunflowers. Stacey rubs the petal of one sunflower between her fingers, eyes wide. 

“Wow,” Andrew says from above them. “Girls, what do you say?”

“Thank you,” the girls chorus in unison. 

“Stacey, I’m going to give you a vase to fill with water and you can take them out to the table, okay? Anna, help your sister.” Tyler straightens as the girls turn to their father. Andrew pulls down a vase from one of his cabinets and passes it to Stacey. She takes it solemnly and the two girls leave after filling the vase with water from the sink. In their absence, Tyler and Andrew look at each other for a moment. Andrew is wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, the swirl of his tattoos drawing Tyler’s gaze. Tyler wants to trace them with his tongue. 

He’s also wearing a frilly plaid apron, which is what Tyler is going to focus on for the sake of his sanity. “Nice,” Tyler says, nodding to it.

Andrew doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “You know,” he says, shrugging. “Daughters.”

“They have good taste.” Tyler moves to stand next to Andrew. “Do you need help with anything?”

Andrew glances at him, then smiles. “Yeah. You think you can handle making mashed potatoes?”

“Sure?” Tyler says hesitantly. He takes the bowl Andrew gives him and the spoon and follows the instructions Andrew gives him, mashing the potatoes inside and stirring in butter and milk and salt and pepper until it tastes good. He holds out the bowl triumphantly, scooping a bit out onto his finger and offering it to Andrew without thinking. 

Andrew looks at Tyler narrow-eyed before taking his wrist. His hand is warm from the stove as he brings Tyler’s hand to his mouth and licks the mashed potatoes from his finger. Tyler’s knees go a little weak. 

“Not bad,” Andrew says. “Why don’t you put that on the stove and take out the crackers and dip? Wash your hands,” he adds. 

“I’m eighteen, not eight,” Tyler huffs, but he hastily changes course to the sink. 

Out on Andrew’s back patio are a small group of adults, four women and three men, and six children, all seemingly under the age of ten. The smallest is only an infant, still barely walking with the aid of the tallest man Tyler has ever seen. The other three have thick black hair and wide smiles, and it’s easy to tell whose kids they are, because their dad’s grin is exactly the same. Anna and Stacey both call his name when he comes out, walking carefully to be sure he doesn’t drop anything. He smiles at them and sets the platter of crackers down on the long table set up towards the back wall. Patrice has opened the wine, and Tyler pours himself a glass while trying very hard not to look like he’s getting away with something. One of the women seems about his age, and she’s carrying a wine glass too, so whatever. 

“Hi,” he says, waving at everyone. “I’m Tyler.”

The girl about his age says, “You go to BU, right? Me too.” She holds out her hand. “Marie-Philip, I play for the women’s team.”

“Cool!” Tyler says, shaking hands. “I really want to get out to see you guys sometime. I’ve heard good things!”

“Yeah, sure,” says the other young woman. She’s a couple years older and has a sick undercut on her left side. “We’re way better.”

“Providence College,” Marie-Philip says, rolling her eyes. 

“I’m Genevieve,” says the girl from Providence. “Sorry about your university.”

Tyler lifts his wine glass to Marie-Philip and says, “Go Terriers.” Something about her face and voice clicks in his head and he says, “Wait, are you _the_ Marie-Philip?” and she laughs self-consciously, nodding. Tyler gapes at her until she reaches out and gently pushes his chin up.

The men are Patrice; the tall guy is Zdeno (“Call me Z,” he says in an accented voice, smiling wryly) and Jarome, who is so nice Tyler feels like he should be calling him sir. The other two women are Z and Jarome’s wives, Tania and Kate. He asks Tania if he can hold Eliza, who is just an adorable ball of smiley baby, and balances her on his hip as he walks around the patio, bouncing her up and down. She giggles at him and pokes at his face. 

“Ouch,” he tells her as Andrew comes out, apron off and a button-down over his t-shirt. Andrew looks at him, smiles slightly, and then announces that dinner is ready and they can come inside to eat. 

It’s a much more chaotic Thanksgiving than Tyler is used to, no one passing in the same direction and people talking over each other in a mix of English, French, and Slovak. Tyler is sitting to Andrew’s left, next to Marie-Philip and across from Patrice, who keeps eying him whenever he speaks up. Marie-Philip is caught up in a spirited argument with Kate and Genevieve about women’s hockey, and Andrew and Patrice are talking about some interoffice drama from Northeastern. Tyler is content to listen and enjoy the food. Even the mashed potatoes. 

Patrice finally gets around to asking Tyler about himself once everyone is starting to slow down. Tyler has eaten two helpings of stuffing and turkey and three of the green beans, which apparently Patrice made, and he’s drinking more wine when Patrice asks how he met Andrew. He coughs, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and glances at Andrew, who smiles and says he should tell it. 

Tyler feels weird explaining the whole train thing to Patrice. He doesn’t include all his blatant flirting, though Patrice laughs at what Tyler does share, so maybe it would have been okay.. Patrice asks some questions about Tyler’s major, then about his hockey playing days, which leads to Anna leaning down the table and practically shouting, “You have to come skating with us!”

“Skating?” Tyler asks. 

“Frog Pond at the Common,” Andrew says. “We go every year. You don’t have to –”

“I’d love to come,” Tyler says, smiling. “I might p – uh, get tired kinda quick. My hip can be bad.”

Andrew, to his interest, blushes. Patrice narrows his eyes at them. Andrew says quickly, “How’s – Brad, right?”

By the time pie comes around, Tyler is so full he’s tempted to pop open his jeans. He is about to, then sees Patrice watching him again and decides the better of it. He takes a slice of each pie – pumpkin, apple cranberry, and pecan – and takes it outside with the kids to supervise them playing mini-stick. He’s slowly making his way through the pumpkin pie when Andrew joins him, carrying two mugs of coffee. Tyler takes one gratefully with murmured thanks. 

“Did you have a good time?” asks Andrew. “I know it’s mostly guys I work with.”

“No, this was fun!” Tyler sits back and sips at the coffee. “How do you know Marie-Philip and Genevieve?”

“They do November Project with me,” Andrew says. “You know, we meet for running and stadium steps and stuff. You should come out some time. It could be good for your hip.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of jogging and stretching,” Tyler says. “It helps.”

Andrew nods and sips at his coffee, watching as Anna scores a goal and shrieks loudly in delight, jumping up and down. “You’re good with the kids too. I don’t know what it’s like at Boston University, but if you ever need a quiet space to hang out and study, or even just a healthy meal, you can always come over here.”

“Yeah?” Tyler tries not to grin like an idiot. 

“Yeah.” Andrew reaches over and squeezes the back of Tyler’s neck. “Happy Thanksgiving, Tyler.”

 

Tyler takes Andrew at his word and comes over about once a week to hang with the girls when he’s feeling tired of the college scene. They’re fun and sweet and there’s always the bonus of getting to see Andrew. Sometimes Tyler stays for dinner or they watch hockey. A couple of times, Tyler falls asleep on Andrew’s couch. Usually Andrew wakes him up after an hour or two and sends him home, but there’s one night toward the end of the semester when it’s snowing like crazy outside, that Andrew coaxes Tyler up and into upstairs bedroom. Tyler’s too out of it to realize that Andrew’s sleeping on the couch instead until he gets downstairs the next morning and sees the rumpled sheets. 

“You didn’t have to take the couch,” he says, wandering into the kitchen. He stops short, mouth going dry. 

Andrew is at the stove, balancing on one foot. He’s only wearing a pair of briefs, pulling tight against his truly magnificent ass, and his back tattoo is visible in all its gorgeous, full-color glory. It’s geometric, with a bird on the bottom and his daughters’ names up top, and Tyler wants to touch it. Wants to do more than touch it, really. 

“I didn’t mind,” Andrew says without turning around. It takes Tyler a moment to realize what he’s talking about, too distracted by the way Andrew’s legs flex as he lowers his foot back to the floor. “Do you like your eggs soft or hard?”

“Soft?” Tyler says vaguely, still watching Andrew’s ass. “Uh. I’m gonna…make coffee?”

He turns his back so he doesn’t have to look at Andrew and starts raiding Andrew’s cupboards, looking for the coffee. When he finally finds it, he turns around and sees Andrew twisting to slide the eggs off onto the plates. He’s got two more tats on his chest, above his pecs, which are ridiculously well-defined. Tyler wants to die. 

“The girls won’t be up for another hour at least,” Andrew says. “Snow day. They’ll get to our street soon, so you can go home, but if you need the shower you’re welcome to it.”

“I’m okay.” Tyler sits down at the kitchen island and takes the plate Andrew slides to him. “Thanks.”

They eat quietly, Andrew eventually making the coffee for them. Tyler tries not looking at him, but he can feel his face burning. Finally Andrew kicks him gently. 

“Is something wrong?” Andrew asks. 

“No,” Tyler says, head jerking up to meet Andrew’s eyes. “Nothing.”

“Dad!” one of the girls shrieks from upstairs. “Dad!”

“Inside voice!” Andrew calls back. 

“But Dad, it’s _snowing_!” Now that the voice is a little closer, Tyler can tell it’s Stacey. “Can we go skating?”

Andrew glances at Tyler. “You wanna go with us?” he asks. “You can borrow some of my clothes if you need.”

Every instinct Tyler has screams for him to say no. He should go home and stop thinking pervy thoughts about the nice dude who lets him hang out at his house. Instead, he says, “Yeah, okay.”

And that’s how Tyler ends up back on the ice for the first time in more than a year, his leg a little wobbly as he takes his first step. The girls are better than he is, zipping off right away. Andrew hangs back, watching Tyler. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“I told you.” Tyler pushes off, the motion coming back to him. “I’m gonna be so sore after this.”

“Thanks for coming anyway.” Andrew turns to skate backwards in front of Tyler. “You don’t look too bad.”

“Show-off,” Tyler accuses. 

“Maybe,” Andrew says, smiling. “Come on, I’ll race you to the other end.”

They stay for about an hour before the girls get tired and Tyler’s hip starts bothering him. They get hot chocolate from Dunkin’ Donuts and walk along the west side of the Common back to the Boylston T stop, the girls talking excitedly and stopping periodically to throw snowballs at each other. Andrew and Tyler hang back, Tyler limping slightly. Andrew notices and asks if he needs to stop. Tyler says no, but by the time they finally make it back to Andrew’s house, he’s limping so bad that he collapses on the couch instead of going upstairs to change like the girls. 

“Tyler!” Andrew drops to his knees next to the couch and starts to reach out before yanking his hand back. “Um, can I?”

“It’s just sore,” Tyler says. “It only needs some heat.” 

“I’ll get you a heat pack.” Andrew goes to the kitchen and comes back a few minutes later. He hands it to Tyler, who settles it against his hip and sits back with a heavy sigh. Andrew takes the seat next to him and looks at him anxiously. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tyler says. “I promise.” 

“You shouldn’t have exerted yourself too much,” Andrew says. 

“I’m seriously fine,” says Tyler. “It’s okay.” He pats Andrew’s cheek absently. “You worry too much.”

Andrew turns into Tyler’s hand. “I can’t help it.”

Tyler stares at him, chewing at his lower lip. Andrew sighs softly, mutters, “Fuck it,” and kisses Tyler, slowly. Tyler’s hand tightens on Andrew’s jaw and kisses back, eyes slipping shut. He forgets about the pain in his hip, about the chill still clinging to his cheeks and legs and hands. All he knows is the taste of Andrew, the soft slide of his tongue. He pushes into it and hisses when he bumps his hip. 

“Careful,” Andrew whispers, kissing the corner of Tyler’s mouth. “I got you.” 

Andrew pushes Tyler back and moves to straddle him, careful not to put his weight on Tyler’s legs. Tyler tilts his head up and stares at Andrew’s cheek, unable to meet his eyes. “Andrew –”

Andrew kisses him again, brief and chaste. “Yes?” He touches Tyler’s chin with two fingers. “Come on, look at me.”

Tyler looks. Andrew’s smiling slightly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “I’m – Andrew –”

“Dad, can we get pizza?” calls Stacey. She starts to thump down the stairs. Andrew swears and climbs off Tyler, giving him a chagrined look. Tyler rubs his face. He’s probably bright red. 

“You already had hot chocolate today,” says Andrew. “Nice try, though.”

“I should go,” Tyler says, struggling to his feet. “I need to get back home. I have to pack for break.” 

“Tyler, don’t –”

“Thanks for everything,” Tyler says, heading for the door. He grabs his coat and shoes and is halfway to the T when he realizes he’s still wearing Andrew’s cloths. 

 

Tyler doesn’t think about Andrew through the last of his finals. He doesn’t think about him during the ugly sweater party Marchy’s frat throws, or the flight back home, or through the first few days of his break. He hangs with his mom and lets her pet his hair. He takes his sisters out to lunch and helps them wrap presents for their parents, but Carrie, at least, cottons on that something is up and corners him Christmas Eve, after he’s had a few too many glasses of spiked cider.

“Who dumped you?” she asks. “Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

“No,” says Tyler. “It’s nothing.”

Carrie leans back and waits. Tyler sighs and gestures her up to his room, where he spills the whole stupid, absurd story. Carrie, for her part, just sits and listens without interrupting until he gets to the part about getting up and leaving. She demands why, and Tyler sighs, looking heavenward. 

“He has _kids_ , Carrie. He’s thirteen years older than me and he has kids and a job and I’m _eighteen_.” Tyler flops back on his bed and covers his eyes with his arm. “I’m not ready for _any_ of that.”

“All he did was kiss you,” Carrie says. 

“I don’t – I’m not gonna hit it and quit it with a _dad_ ,” Tyler says. 

Carrie looks at him. “Is that the real reason?”

Well, no, it isn’t, but Tyler definitely doesn’t want to talk about his gross mushy feelings about Andrew and his body and personality and stupid health food. What’s really scary is how Andrew makes him _want_ to be ready for all the things he says he isn’t ready for. Andrew makes him want to be responsible and adult. To try to be a father, god forbid. He has no idea if that’s what Andrew wants for him, or if he just wants to hook up. Tyler isn’t used to being this unsure about sex and dating. He’s usually pretty upfront with guys, but then he usually sticks to his own age group. 

“This is so fucked up,” he tells Carrie. 

He’s drunk enough that, after Carrie leaves him, he pulls out his phone and texts Andrew, _Hey andrew merry xmas._

In the morning, Andrew has texted back, _Merry Christmas Tyler._ Tyler rubs his thumb over it and sighs. 

It isn’t until New Year’s that he remembers that Andrew is alone for the holidays, the girls having gone to visit their mom for their break. He suddenly feels guilty about the radio silence and sends Andrew a couple of doofy photos of himself in New Year’s glasses and party hats. He adds, _Hope ur doing something fun._

Andrew sends back a photo with him and Patrice, the giant Christmas tree from Quincy Market behind them. _Fireworks,_ is all he says. 

Well, Tyler kind of deserved that. 

 

Tyler gets back to Boston a few days into the new year and gets the room to himself for the weekend. Jamie and his brother are spending some time with Jordie’s girlfriend, which leads to Jamie texting Tyler hilarious stories about how lovey-dovey they are. Tyler’s plan is to clean up his room, which has gotten messy enough to be an actual problem, and he does a decent job until it comes to reorganizing his dresser and closet and he finds the clothes he borrowed from Andrew wadded up in the bottom drawer. 

He throws them in the laundry with the rest of his clothes and decides he’ll take them by on Saturday morning. It’s not that he’s putting off having to see Andrew, he tells himself. It’s just that it’s late-ish and he has to do the laundry. Nothing else. 

His plan is to ring the doorbell, exchange Andrew’s clothes for his own, and head back. But when Andrew answers the door, it’s with a red nose and watery eyes, and he sneezes almost the moment he sees Tyler. He mutters a soft, “Excuse me,” before wiping his nose with the blanket he has draped over his shoulders like a cape. 

“You look awful,” Tyler says instead of hello. “I mean –”

“No,” Andrew says, voice rasping like blade over ice. “I know. It was the firework show. Hi,” he adds. “Did you have a nice vacation?”

“Jesus, get back inside,” Tyler says, shooing him back. “It’s freezing out here.” He herds Andrew back inside and closes the front door behind himself. “Go get back in bed.”

“Tyler –”

“Go,” Tyler says. 

“I’m on the couch,” Andrew says, conceding. “But okay.” He shuffles off, and Tyler watches him go, shaking his head. 

Tyler investigates Andrew’s kitchen and refrigerator and finds it unusually bare. If Andrew has been sick since the fireworks, he probably hasn’t had time to go to the store. Tyler decides to check with him and finds Andrew passed out on the couch, the TV quietly playing National Geographic. Tyler tugs Andrew’s blanket higher to cover his shoulders and writes him a note – _Going to get you food and medicine. Took your keys. – Tyler_

When he comes back, almost forty-five minutes later, laden down with soup and juice from Whole Foods and meds from CVS, Andrew is kind of awake. Tyler coaxes him into eating a container of chicken soup and drinking a couple of Dayquil before letting him lie back down. He tries hard to remember what his mom used to do when he or his sisters got sick. He doesn’t know if Andrew wants Tyler to stroke his back, so that he decides not to do that, but he does cut up an apple for Andrew. 

Andrew falls back asleep after eating the apple. Tyler takes one of the armchairs and changes the channel, flipping around until he finds NESN. He watches for a few hours before Andrew stirs again and then he forces Andrew to go upstairs, standing behind him and glaring every time Andrew turns back around. Once Andrew is in bed, shivering, Tyler brings him his computer so he can watch Netflix and fetches his meds and juice and water. 

“I’m gonna go home,” Tyler says once he’s done all of that. He sits on the edge of the bed. “I’ll be back –”

“No!” Andrew says loudly. He immediately starts coughing, turning to hack into the pillows. Tyler winces and grabs the water glass, urging Andrew upright so he can drink. “Fuck. Please.” Andrew clears his throat noisily, but still sounds just as battered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Tyler sighs and gives into the temptation to stroke Andrew’s sweaty hair from his forehead. He’s burning up, and Tyler should be as far away as possible to keep from getting sick himself, but he knows how much it sucks being sick away from your family. He’d gotten the flu while billeting and it had been the worst, even though his billet mom did her best. He can’t leave Andrew, not when Andrew is looking up at him so hopefully. So desperately. 

“Okay,” Tyler says. “I’ll stay.” 

He sits up in bed next to Andrew to watch movies on Netflix, Andrew lying with his head tucked against Tyler’s hip. Tyler strokes his hair absently as they watch some terrible, mindless comedies. Andrew’s laughs are horrible, all of them turning into wracking coughs almost instantly. Tyler is grateful when Andrew’s breathing starts to slow. He scratches his fingers along Andrew’s hairline and smiles down at him. 

“You’re surprisingly useless,” Tyler says softly. “I kind of like it.” 

Andrew, fast asleep, doesn’t reply.

 

Tyler does have to leave though, and when Andrew hasn’t woken up after a couple hours, he carefully extracts himself from Andrew’s bed. He leaves a note – _Medicine is downstairs and soup is in the fridge. Call me if you need anything, Tyler_ – and the clothes he had borrowed on the pillow next to Andrew. Andrew doesn’t stir. 

School starts on Tuesday, so Tyler spends most of Sunday and Monday getting his books and school supplies. Jamie comes back late Monday night with a new stash of BC weed and they split a joint while exchanging stories of their break. Jamie had apparently skied every mountain in Western Canada and also hooked up with his high school flame, which Tyler has to admit he finds kind of charming. Jamie is pretty happy about it, blushing when he admits that yeah, they had totally held hands in public too, and then coughs and tries to cover by asking Tyler if he’d met anyone over break. 

Tyler changes the subject. 

He texts Andrew at the end of the week, just asking _Are u alive???_ before he heads out to a welcome back party at Marchy’s frat. He spends most of the party hanging at the back with Marie-Philip, who just broke up with her girlfriend and greets Tyler with a somewhat unexpected hug. She proceeds to clue him into the romantic drama of the entire women’s hockey team, which he has to admit is fascinating and a really good distraction from wondering if Andrew is better. They both get wasted since Tyler is doing his level best to match Marie-Philip drink for drink and it turns out she’s, like, a tank. Tyler ends up sleeping on the floor, Marie-Philip’s head pillowed on his stomach, and in the morning they stumble to the dining hall together to slump over eggs and coffee. 

Tyler checks his phone while Marie-Philip stirs sugar into her coffee and sees that Andrew texted back, _Yes_ and then _Thank you for taking care of me_. Around eleven, Andrew texted, _The girls are coming back this weekend_ , _Tyler?_ , _Oh Marie-Philip said you guys are at a party together_ , and _Have fun._ Tyler squints at the screen, too groggy to process it, and slides his phone across to Marie-Philip. 

“Oh,” she says after reading it. “Yeah. I sent him a picture.” She turns her own phone around to show a blurry photo of them chugging beers, their elbows hooked together. Tyler has no memory of taking it. 

“Cool.” Tyler taps the picture and messages it to himself before returning the phone to Marie-Philip. She flashes him a smile. 

They part ways after Tyler promises to catch the next Terriers game. He heads home and is almost there when Andrew texts, _Oh I have your clothes_. 

Tyler groans, but changes direction to the T. 

Andrew does look a lot healthier when Tyler shows up, although he’s still a bit wan. He takes one look at Tyler and gestures him inside. Tyler doesn’t have the energy to argue. He sits at the kitchen island while Andrew does something with a blender and fruit that he promises will make him feel a hundred percent better, staring at the way Andrew’s shirt pulls against his back muscles. He’s already feeling a bit better by the time Andrew gives him a cup of electric green liquid, but he sips at it anyway. It’s surprisingly tasty despite its appearance. He decides, for his own sanity, not to ask what’s in it. 

“I want to thank you again for taking care of me when I was sick,” Andrew says, sitting down next to Tyler. “I’m a mess when I get sick. I completely lose the ability to do anything.” 

“It’s okay,” Tyler says. “I was glad to help. You seemed so pathetic.”

“Thanks,” Andrew says dryly. He watches Tyler drink his shake before saying, “So you hung out with Marie-Philip?”

“Yeah, we ran into each other at a party.” Tyler tells Andrew what he remembers of the night, which isn’t really a whole lot, and finishes, “And now I promised I’d go to one of her games, so if you want to come with, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure, just let me know.” Andrew rests his hand lightly between Tyler’s shoulder blades. “How are you feeling?”

“Not as terrible as I thought.” Tyler leans back into Andrew’s hand. “You said you had clothes for me?”

Andrew nods to the counter where, yes, Tyler’s clothes are folded up in a neat pile. “I know we haven’t – you haven’t been by since I was sick. The girls have been wondering if you’re okay.”

“The girls?” 

Andrew smiles. “Okay, me too. But my point stands.”

“I’m fine,” Tyler says. “Just busy.” He clears his throat. “And, it’s just – I like you a lot, but I’m not – you have daughters.”

“I know.” Andrew moves away, dropping his hand. Tyler mourns the loss and hates himself for it. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Tyler takes a long drink of Andrew’s shake, chugging it until it’s gone. “I should go,” he says, standing up. 

“Let me know about the game,” Andrew says. “And really, don’t be a stranger.”

“It’s okay?”

“Yeah.” Andrew’s smile seems strained despite his breezy tone. “We’re happy to have you around.”

 

Despite that, Tyler avoids the house for the most part, only dropping by once to see the girls and taking them to the movies. Stacey asks if he’s been busy, and he tells her he has, even though that’s only part of the reason he hasn’t been over. She pouts, but seems to understand, and when he gets her ice cream, she forgives him instantly. Anna is easier to win over, pleased enough to be seeing a movie. 

Marie-Philip texts Tyler at the beginning of February to come to the Beanpot at Fenway. She promises two tickets, and Tyler relays that information to Andrew, who immediately responds, _I’ll find something for the girls to do._

It’s miserably cold, even for Tyler, which is compounded by the wind and the icy seats. Andrew arrives a little after him, bearing a thermos of coffee, and Tyler is tempted to kiss him just for that. He holds himself back, though, and sedately accepts the thermos from Andrew, trying not to be charmed by the pinking tips of Andrew’s ears or the black fuzzy toque he’s jammed down on his head. He tugs his scarf tighter around his neck, covering up any further piece of skin. 

“Come here,” Andrew says, holding his arm out. “Like penguins.”

“Like penguins?” Tyler asks, trying not to laugh.

“I’ve seen _March of the Penguins_ so many times,” Andrew sighs. “Even though it makes them cry, they always want to watch it.”

Tyler tucks himself under Andrew’s arm, and maybe it’s his imagination, but it does seem to help. Down on the field, warm-ups are ending and the game is about to start. When they announce Marie-Philip’s name, Tyler cheers loudly and is obscurely proud when the others around him do so as well. 

“Boo,” Andrew says teasingly in Tyler’s ear. 

“We’re not even playing Northeastern,” Tyler says, elbowing him. 

“Boo, BU,” Andrew says. 

It’s a hell of a game despite the wind and the cold, and Tyler is on his feet more often than not, cheering and hollering advice as though they can hear him. Marie-Philip is electrifying to watch, sharp and fast and skilled as hell. She gets an assist on BU’s first goal and scores their third, and both times Andrew and Tyler leap to their feet to scream her name. 

BU takes the game, and they stump down to wait for Marie-Philip and say hello, but they only get a minute with her before she’s pulled away by her teammates, laughing brightly and waving as she calls apologies. Andrew shrugs at Tyler and says, “Wanna come home for some hot chocolate and some food?”

Andrew’s house is wonderfully warm. Tyler sheds his layers onto the coat hook and slips off his boots to rest by the front door. He follows Andrew into the kitchen and sits at the island while Andrew sets a kettle to boil. 

“Where are the girls?” he asks. 

“They’re spending the day with a friend,” Andrew says. “Sleepover time. They’re pretty excited. Apparently Jonelle’s mom does really amazing braids.”

“That sounds fun.” Tyler gets up to poke around in Andrew’s fridge. “Anything I can do to help?”

“You can microwave some of the leftover chicken if you’re hungry.” 

Tyler shakes his head and closes it again. “Nah, not really.” He moves to open the cabinet where Andrew keeps the mugs and takes out two. “Just hot chocolate sounds good.”

“You’re right about that.” Andrew scoops out the cocoa powder for each mug and then leans against the counter. “What about Marie-Philip, huh?”

“She’s amazing!” Tyler says. “Did you see that pass she made in the second? The one no-look fake drop-pass?”

“Yes!” Andrew says, and they discuss the game until the water comes to a boil, and then the topic turns to the Bruins. Andrew thinks they’ll win the Cup this year; Tyler keeps trying to make a case for the Leafs to make the playoffs, but even he can’t keep a straight face when he says that. Andrew laughs at his arguments, doubling over and slopping hot chocolate down his hands. Tyler sets his mug down and touches Andrew’s hand. 

“Be careful,” he says. “It’s still hot.”

Andrew shifts the mug to his other hand and examines the reddening, chocolate-stained skin. “Not that bad.”

Tyler sighs and grabs Andrew’s hand to look at it himself. Andrew goes still and when Tyler looks up, he sees that Andrew’s eyes are fixed on him. Steady and unmoving. “We need to get this under water,” he says uncertainly. 

“Yeah,” Andrew says. He lets Tyler guide his hand under the faucet. Tyler rinses the chocolate from Andrew’s fingers, holds it under the tap until Andrew shivers and tugs his hand back. “Now I’m cold again.”

They finish their hot chocolate in silence. Andrew puts his empty cup in the sink, and Tyler hands his over after he drains the last dregs. Andrew accepts it with murmured thanks, their hands brushing. Tyler meets Andrew’s eyes again. Andrew is slightly narrow-eyed, as if evaluating, and whatever he sees must satisfy him, because he sets the mug down decisively in the sink and takes a step forward to cup Tyler’s face in his hands. 

Tyler inhales sharply and says, “Your hands,” and fails to think of something else to say. He fists his hands in Andrew’s shirt and tugs him one more step forward, until Andrew leans in and kisses him. 

It’s an aggressive kiss, Andrew pushing his knee between Tyler’s thighs and plundering Tyler’s mouth. Tyler is lost in it from the moment Andrew’s lips touch his, licking the taste of chocolate from Andrew’s mouth until all that’s left is Andrew, the smell of him, the warmth of his body against Tyler’s hands. Tyler worms his hands under Andrew’s shirt, shamelessly groping as much of him as he can get his hands on. Andrew shudders when Tyler brushes a thumb over his nipple and pushes Tyler harder against the counter. 

“God, Tyler,” Andrew murmurs when he finally pulls back. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” 

“I can’t believe you’re doing it either,” Tyler says, dragging him back. “Have you been thinking about this?” When Andrew nods, Tyler eggs him on, asking, “What do you want?”

Andrew groans and ducks his face against Tyler’s neck like he’s embarrassed. “I want to rub off on your ass,” he says, barely above a whisper. He palms Tyler’s ass as if to punctuate his point, and Tyler is instantly, completely hard. He nods fervently, imagining it, the dirtiness of it, Andrew pressed up against him, nearly in but not quite –

“You like that?” Andrew kisses the corner of Tyler’s eye. “Yeah, you do, don’t you? Come on, turn around.” 

Tyler does as he’s told, gripping the far end of the island. Andrew runs a hand down Tyler’s back, rucks up his shirt until Tyler’s chest is pressed to the cold surface, nipples hardening at the contact. He shudders. Andrew rubs at Tyler’s back, palms his ass again before withdrawing. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. “Are you clean?”

When Tyler nods, Andrew disappears, but he’s barely gone a minute before he’s back, setting something down on the counter. Tyler cranes his head and sees Andrew bending over him before kissing the small of his back. Tyler shudders and drops his head again, moans when Andrew get his jeans undone and starts working them down Tyler’s thighs, underwear with it. He feels so desperate, spread out like this for Andrew, and he fucking loves it, loves the feeling of Andrew’s breath against his ass. He wonders if, maybe, he could get Andrew to eat him out like this, filthy and fantastic as Tyler squirmed and twisted. Andrew kisses the curve of Tyler’s hip and then comes the cool touch of lotion on his ass, between his cheeks. When Andrew brushes his asshole, Tyler whines, pushing back against the touch, wanting one of those thick fingers inside of him. 

“Not today,” Andrew says. He sounds breathless, like he’s run a mile. Tyler smiles at knowing he’s the one who did that, that Andrew is breathless because he’s about to rub off against him. He presses his smile into the counter as Andrew’s jeans rustle to the floor. 

It’s agony when Andrew’s cock slides through the crease of his ass, head bumping against Tyler’s entrance but not pushing in. Andrew’s cock is thick and hot, spreading him open. It feels fucking amazing. Tyler wants it in his mouth, weighing on his tongue as Andrew pushes in. He wants it in his ass, opening him up and just taking, taking, taking. He groans and straightens up onto one hand, the other curling around his own dick. 

“Yeah,” Andrew says, against Tyler’s ear. “Show me how you like it, Tyler.” 

“Fuck,” Tyler moans, tightening his grip and stroking faster. “Fuck, I want you in me.”

Andrew bites lightly at Tyler’s shoulder, his thrusts against Tyler’s becoming more erratic. “Yeah?”

“I think about it all the fucking time,” Tyler says. Andrew groans at this and wraps his arm around Tyler’s waist, pulling him hard and flush against Andrew’s hips. It almost feels like Andrew’s already fucking him, as though Andrew’s imagining it now like Tyler is. Imagining himself on all fours, Andrew fucking into him until he’s shouting. Tyler gasps and rubs his thumb over the head of his dick, his head lolling back against Andrew’s shoulder. “I’m gonna come, Andrew –”

Andrew swears and tugs Tyler up against him as Tyler comes, splattering the counter and the floor and probably the cabinets too. Andrew pushes Tyler forward onto the counter and rubs himself against Tyler’s ass until he stiffens and comes on Tyler’s back, come dripping down Tyler’s ass, trickling down his thigh. Andrew drops to his knees a moment later and urges Tyler around. 

“What –” Tyler starts, and then he falls back against the counter, only barely catching himself, as Andrew takes Tyler’s dick in his mouth, licking around the head, down the shaft before swallowing nearly the whole length down. It’s too soon, Tyler’s too sensitive, but he’s shaking like a leaf in Andrew’s hands, thighs trembling as it edges into painful pleasure. He’s nearly sobbing, gasping out Andrew’s name and begging him stop, don’t stop, and he’s getting hard, somehow, swelling on Andrew’s tongue as his whole body seems to flush with arousal and embarrassment at his loud moans. Andrew holds him in place to keep him from thrusting, doing all the work so that Tyler can’t do anything but let the pleasure come to him. And then he’s coming again, not a lot, but so deeply that he feels it in his chest, the release sending his whole body into loose collapse against Andrew’s kitchen island. 

Andrew rises to his feet and moves to stand between Tyler’s thighs. His hands are warm on Tyler’s knees, his gaze fond. Tyler wraps his legs around Andrew’s waist, kissing him until Andrew hoists him off the counter and sets him back on his feet. 

“Come on,” he says. “I’ve got a bed upstairs.”

Tyler passes out once Andrew gets him on the bed and doesn’t wake up for a solid hour. Andrew is asleep beside him when he stirs. Andrew has put on a fresh pair of briefs, but he’s shirtless, back facing Tyler. Tyler traces his fingers over the heavy black lines of Andrew’s tattoos, biting his lower lip. Andrew shifts and breathes out a funny little sigh, though he doesn’t wake up. 

“Andrew,” Tyler says. He kisses Andrew’s shoulder gently, then scrapes his teeth over the top edge of the tattoo. “ _An_ drew.”

Andrew mumbles something and flails back, hitting Tyler’s left hip. Tyler grins and presses his face into Andrew’s back, tucking his knees up against Andrew’s and closing his eyes. It’s warm and cozy, and Tyler falls back asleep easily, breathing in the salty smell of Andrew’s skin. 

When he wakes next, Andrew is getting dressed at the end of the bed. Tyler pushes himself up onto his elbows, sighing when Andrew pulls a t-shirt on. It seems a real shame to cover up that beautiful tattoo. And that beautiful back, too. He reaches out, pulls at the waistband of Andrew’s briefs, and reels him back. Andrew sits down at the edge of the bed and strokes his fingers behind Tyler’s ear. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

“Kiss good morning?” Tyler suggests. 

“It isn’t morning,” Andrew says. “I was going to make dinner.”

“Let’s just order in,” Tyler says, trying to drag Andrew in. “We could get wings.”

Andrew gave him a disappointed look. “You’re a former athlete. You must know how bad that is for you,” he says. “I don’t have your youthful metabolism anymore.”

“We could work it off,” Tyler says, waggling his eyebrows. Andrew laughs, wincing slightly, but he pulls Tyler up anyway and kisses him. 

“Compromise,” Andrew says. “We’ll order out for healthy food.”

They eat in bed at Tyler’s insistence, cross-legged and using their knees and thighs for tables. Tyler can’t remember the last time he had something like this, just a quiet few moments with his partner once the clothes had come back on. Andrew’s knee presses against his, and Tyler looks up to see Andrew smiling at him. Tyler smiles back and reaches over to wipe salad dressing from the side of Andrew’s mouth.

Tyler goes home before the trains stop running, and he feels as though he’s floating all the way back to his dorm. Jamie is smoking a joint and working on his computer when Tyler comes in, and he laughs when he sees Tyler’s face.

“Someone’s happy,” he says 

“I had a good day,” Tyler says. He smiles and flings himself onto his bed. When he cautiously sniffs his t-shirt, he imagines that Andrew’s smell is still clinging to the fabric.

 

Midterms fall in the middle of February, and Tyler’s free time vanishes for a week after that while he studies and tries desperately to claw some semblance of a passing grade from his exams. He loves Jamie, he really does, but he kind of hates studying in the same room as him because Jamie has this tendency to listen to terrible heavy metal music when he’s working, and it’s only because he mentions this to Andrew after a frankly incredible round of blowjobs that he finds himself invited over whenever he wants. Tyler tries not to take this as anything other than Andrew’s previous offer of safe haven being extended just a bit further, but he does preen and beam. 

“I don’t want you to fail out,” Andrew says, smiling slightly. “Then you’d have to leave Boston.”

“I’d find a way to stick around,” Tyler says. “Find a job, I guess.”

“Have you thought about getting a job?” Andrew asks. “I know some people, if you’re looking.”

“Nah,” Tyler says. “Thanks, though. I’m trying to focus on school right now. I’m not the best student unless I’m really focusing.”

“What about after school?” Andrew asks. “Are you going to go to med school?”

“I’m only a freshman,” Tyler says, chest seizing up the way it usually does when he has to think that far in the future. “I have three more years to figure that out.”

“Don’t remind me.” Andrew collapses back against the pillow. “God, you’re so _young_.”

“You had my dick in your mouth like five minutes ago,” Tyler says. He runs his hand down between Andrew’s legs and squeezes the head of Andrew’s dick lightly. Andrew hisses and jerks up. “I bet I can get you to come again.”

“Unlike you, I am not still a teenager,” Andrew says. “But you’re welcome to try.”

Tyler grins up at him and slides down to kneel between Andrew’s legs. 

So most nights Tyler can be found sacked out on the couch with his textbooks while Andrew gets the girls through their evening routine of homework, dinner, story time, and bed. Sometimes Tyler gives him a hand, but mostly he tries to stay out of Andrew’s way. He isn’t entirely sure of his place here, given that he’s about ninety percent sure the girls have no idea he and Andrew are – whatever they are. If the girls ask, he’ll help them with their homework or read them a story, but the rest of the time he stays on his couch trying to study orgo and biochem and reminding himself not to freak out about how most of his classmates have already started with their clinical experience. He was the one who had decided to wait until sophomore year when he had gotten all the really tough introductory classes under his belt. 

He confides in Andrew once that he’s afraid he’s going to fall behind. Andrew is asleep, of course, because never in a million years could Tyler admit something like that aloud, but it’s nice to sit up in bed next to him and pour out his heart. Tyler knows he had barely scraped through his math class first semester and there are some nights when he’s struggling to understand what the fuck his notes say that he wonders why he didn’t just major in something easier. But this is what he’s wanted ever since they told him his hip would probably never recover enough for him to play hockey professionally, and he has no idea what else he could even do. 

The night before orgo and biochem final, he stays up rereading his notes and textbook and the notes he had sweet talked from one of his classmates until Andrew comes downstairs around two in the morning and takes everything from Tyler’s hands. 

“You need to take a break and get a good night of sleep,” he says. “No arguing.”

“I can’t,” Tyler says. “I’m never going to sleep again.”

Andrew sighs and kneels on the floor. “Okay,” he says. “I’m going to blow you and then you’re going to come to bed.”

“Andrew –”

“Yes or no?”

Tyler wavers for a moment before his instincts kick in and he says, “Yes, yes, okay.”

Andrew tugs Tyler’s sweatpants down his thighs and kisses curve of his hip, right over his scar. Tyler shivers and carefully settles his hands on Andrew’s head as Andrew tugs down his briefs. Over the last month, Tyler has discovered that Andrew is incredibly good at blowjobs. It makes him wonder how exactly Andrew, Mr. Married-My-High-School-Sweetheart-Then-Had-Two-Kids, learned to give head. It’s kind of hot imagining Andrew out on the club scene while his daughters were with his ex. He bets Andrew looks great in club wear. 

He might have learned on the fly, like Tyler did, kneeling on bathroom floors and letting himself be guided. Or maybe he had been taught patiently by someone experienced. Maybe someone had taken their time with him, coaxed him through it. Tyler can’t see how anyone could have resisted that. Andrew looks so good with his mouth stretched around Tyler’s cock, gorgeous and debauched and yet so put together. Tyler likes getting Andrew a little messy, and tonight Andrew is letting him go for it, letting him fuck Andrew’s mouth. Tyler moans and tugs at Andrew’s hair and comes in Andrew’s mouth, spilling thickly down his lips. Andrew strokes him through the whole thing, licking his lips and watching Tyler intently. Tyler’s breathing takes a while to return to normal, and when it does he drags Andrew up for a long kiss. 

“Better?” Andrew asks when they break apart. He rubs Tyler’s shoulder gently and smiles at him. “Come on, time for bed.” 

“But –”

“You won’t do well on your test if you fall asleep in the middle of it,” Andrew says. He helps Tyler to his feet and leads him up the stairs. He helps Tyler out of his clothes, gives him a washcloth to clean himself off, and then slips into bed beside Tyler, pressing his lips to his shoulder. 

Tyler spares a moment to wonder how he got so lucky, what he did to deserve someone this wise and caring and so, so far beyond what he should have at nineteen. No one meets their one true love at nineteen, Tyler always thought, but here he is. And he realizes suddenly that he’s terrified of fucking it up and Andrew realizing that he’s just a dumb teenager who has no idea what he’s doing with his life and is no kind of match for someone like Andrew. He turns his head up, kisses Andrew’s mouth, then closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

 

The test goes about as well as Tyler expected. He struggles his way through it and is one of the last students left in the lecture hall at the end of the allotted two hours. When he finishes, he makes a beeline for Marchy’s apartment and demands that Marchy give him booze. Marchy takes one look at his face, declares it party night, and drags Adam and Tuukka in to help. Most of the men’s hockey team and half the women’s hockey team, including Marie-Philip, show up, and Marie-Philip challenges Tyler to a shot-gunning contest, which she wins, no contest. Tyler takes a shot to punish himself and then another for good measure.

Three hours later, Tyler is pleasantly wasted and sending Andrew texts about how much he misses him. Andrew isn’t responding, which Tyler should probably take as a hint, but he hadn’t even sent a text to ask how the exam went so Tyler’s feeling a bit – well, Marchy says he’s being needy, but Tyler feels neglected. It’s stupid – he’s just the guy Andrew is fucking, really – but he wants to know Andrew is thinking about him. 

“Okay, that’s it,” Marchy says, taking Tyler’s phone from his hands. “You need to stop and enjoy the party. Who are you texting anyway?”

Tyler looks guiltily up at him. Marchy’s eyes widen. 

“Hot dad?” Marchy asks suspiciously, thumbing Tyler’s phone open to the text messages screen. He reads for a second, then jerks his head up. “Holy shit, Ty. Are you fucking him?”

“Yes?” Tyler says. “Maybe?” 

“Good lord.” Marchy turns Tyler’s phone off and tucks it away. “Okay, I was gonna suggest I find you someone to hook up with, but now I think you need more vodka.”

“What?” demands Tyler. “I could go over there and fuck him right now if I wanted.”

“Tyler –”

“I could!” Tyler tries to get up, but Marchy sits on him. “Get off!”

“No,” Marchy says. “You’re being a fucking moron. Torey! Get me something with vodka! Lots of vodka!”

Several drinks later, Tyler is lying on Marchy’s bed with a cold washcloth over his face. Marchy’s girlfriend – Shannon? Tyler thinks that’s her name – gives him a glass of water and an ibuprofen. Tyler takes them with murmured thanks. 

“I love him,” he tells her. “I think I love him, anyway.”

“Is this your hot dad?” Shannon asks in sympathy. “Bradley told me about him.”

“Bradley?” Tyler asks, distracted, and that’s when he abruptly decides that he needs to vomit. 

He wakes the next morning in Marchy’s bed with his cell phone on his chest and a glass of water waiting for him on the night stand. He manages to stand and shower without falling over and heads out to the living room to find Marchy and Shannon sleeping on the couch together. They’re lucky they’re both quite small, Tyler reflects, because otherwise they definitely would not fit. 

For lack of any other way to thank them, he makes a pot of coffee and by the time it’s done brewing, they’re awake and bickering quietly over who hogged the blanket more. Tyler hands them both mugs of coffee and says, “Thanks.”

“You needed it,” Marchy says. He takes a long sip of coffee and sighs. “That’s the stuff.”

“I should go home and – fuck, I probably need to apologize to Andrew,” Tyler realizes. “Shit. I was an ass last night.”

“If you need anything –”

“I know,” Tyler says. “Thanks, dude. You’re the best. I’ll catch up with you later.”

He doesn’t turn on his phone until he’s safely in his own bed, pressed into the corner of the wall with his knees pulled up against the chest. He winces when he scrolls past his own texts, most of them completely incomprehensible, the rest mildly obscene. When he gets to the point where Marchy had turned off his phone, he has a series of texts from Andrew. 

_Hey, sorry, I was wrapped up in a meeting all afternoon. How was the exam?_

_Are you drunk?_

_Tyler_

_Call me._

__The last one was from around midnight. Tyler sighs, glances over at Jamie who has his headphones on, and calls Andrew.

“Hello, this is Andrew,” Andrew says when he picks up. He sounds distracted. 

“Um,” Tyler says. “Hi. It’s Tyler.”

“Tyler!” Andrew’s voice softens. “Are you okay? I was worried.”

“I’m fine, it was just – the test sucked, so Marchy got me drunk.” Tyler chews his lower lip. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have – I was being pushy. Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Andrew says. “I mean if one of the girls had picked up my phone, it could have been bad, but –”

“Shit,” Tyler says. “God, I’m sorry. I just – I missed you.”

“Oh.” Andrew is quiet for a moment. “You can come over, if you like.”

“No, I need to sleep,” Tyler lies. He would love nothing more than to go see Andrew and fall asleep on the couch and let the girls paint his nails. But he knows he looks as shitty as he feels and he doesn’t want Andrew to see him like this. He wriggles out of his jeans and throws them haphazardly at his desk as he says, “But thanks for the offer.”

“All right,” Andrew says. “Let me know next time you want to come by.”

“Yeah.” Tyler lies down in bed and turns onto his side. “I will. Thanks.”

“Get some rest, Tyler,” Andrew says, and he hangs up. It’s one of those weird things about him that Tyler has noticed: he rarely says goodbye, especially on the phone. It’s oddly charming. It’s like Andrew thinks every conversation, every interaction is destined to continue. 

Tyler holds that thought in his mind as he goes back to sleep, curled up facing the wall with his phone in his hands. 

 

Tyler only drops by Andrew’s once in the next week, still embarrassed by his behavior. He eats dinner with Andrew and the girls, not saying much as Anna and Stacey chatter about school and friends. Afterwards, he plays Uno with them and then helps Andrew get them to bed. It’s nice, domestic. Tyler feels hideously out of place the entire time. 

Andrew, for his part, is quiet too. He seems a little preoccupied. Tyler doesn’t know how to ask what’s bothering him, because maybe this is just what he’s like normally and Tyler hasn’t noticed. They hardly touch; they don’t even kiss. Andrew hugs him before he leaves, but that’s all. 

If Tyler is honest, it’s not entirely unusual. They don’t have sex every time Tyler comes over, after all. It might be that he’s convinced he fucked up that he’s reading into it. It’s definitely that, he decides. He’ll apologize to Andrew again the next time he comes over and then possibly offer him his body. That’s an excellent plan. 

His plan is fucked when his orgo and biochem professor tells them they’ll be getting their exams back during their Discussion sections. His whole body seizes up when she says that, and as soon as class is over he goes back to his dorm room and begs a joint off Jamie to take the edge off his hysteria. Jamie pushes his chair back from his desk and frowns at him. 

“Dude,” he says. “You okay?”

“Probably not,” Tyler says. “Fuck.”

“Okay,” Jamie says. “Let me know if I can help.”

Tyler spends the rest of the week in a quiet panic. He barely sleeps, only picks at his food, and ignores Marchy and Jamie every time they ask if he’s all right. It takes Shannon practically force-feeding him ramen for him to finally eat. He throws it up after, of course, but at least he ate. 

He’s totally ragged when he shows up to his Discussion section, slinking in with a Starbucks cup in hand and wearing his rattiest sweatpants. He feels like shit and knows he looks it from the looks he gets from his classmates. He literally could not give less of a shit. 

His TA gives them their blue books at the end of the class period. Tyler turns his paper over hesitantly once most of the class has filed out of the room. His hands are shaking, he notices distantly. At the top of the front cover, it says, 67%. D-.

His stomach drops, and he can feel his coffee threatening to come back up. He's going to fail out, he realizes. He's going to fail this class and it's going to completely throw off the structure the program has. Tyler will have to retake this class and he doesn't think it'll help any because he _doesn't get it_ and he's stupid, he knows that. He barely scraped through high school, even after his injury when he had nothing but time to study. The fact that his program even accepted him is a minor miracle. Maybe they took pity on him because of his essay about injuring his hip or maybe they just mixed up his application with someone more deserving –

Tyler shakes his head to cut off that train of thought. He takes the test and shoves it into his bag. Andrew should be home by now; he picks the girls up from school and then brings them home. Tyler will just camp out there so he doesn't have to answer when Jamie asks how he did on the exam. That's totally reasonable.

Even though Tyler texts Andrew while he’s walking over, he has to wait a minute before Andrew buzzes him in. Once he’s inside, he sees why. Stacey is in tears, wailing at the top of her lungs, and Andrew is kneeling, trying to comfort her. She’s having none of it, won’t even let him hug her, and Tyler doesn’t know the first thing about trying to help.

Anna is sitting on the floor calmly patching up what looks like a nasty scrape on her knee. That, Tyler knows how to handle, so he drops to the floor beside her and offers to help her clean it up. Anna nods and holds out a couple of sanitizing wipe packets. 

“How did this happen?” Tyler asks as he carefully wipes dirt and bits of gravel from her knee. “Did you get in a fight?”

Anna giggles and shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. I tripped on the way back from the T stop. Stacey was crying then, too.” She says this last part with evident distaste, looking at her sister like she’s disappointed. 

“Why is she crying?” Tyler opens the tube of Neosporin and squirts it onto her scrape. “Did _she_ get in a fight?”

“No,” Anna sighs. “This girl at school didn’t invite her to her birthday party. It’s so stupid. Stacey doesn’t even _like_ her.”

“It hurts to be left out,” Tyler says. “Especially by people you already don’t like. It’s way more fun if the person you don’t like wants you to like them.”

“That’s _stupid_ ,” Anna says, but she looks a little more sympathetic. Tyler gets a bandaid on over her scrape, and she gets up to go hug her sister. Stacey’s tears slowly disappear until she’s smiling, cheeks still damp. After a minute or so, Anna takes her sister’s hand and drags her off, yelling that they’re going to go play with Barbies. 

Andrew pushes himself up, groaning. “Thank God,” he says. “I don’t know what you did, but thanks.”

“Not much,” Tyler admits. “But if I helped, I’m glad I did.”

Andre kisses him lightly and moves towards the fridge. “I’m going to make them a snack as a reward. What a day.” He glances over at Tyler. “I hope yours was better.”

“I –” Tyler hesitates, then shrugs. “It was okay.”

“What’s up?” Andrew asks immediately, turning away from fridge to come rub at Tyler’s shoulders. He digs his thumbs into the meat of Tyler’s back, and Tyler groans, pushing back into it. “You’re tense. Did something happen?”

“I – I just didn’t do as well on my midterm as I hoped,” Tyler mutters. “It isn’t a big deal.”

“Oh, shit.” Andrew releases him and turns Tyler to face him. “Is it really not a big deal or are you just saying that?”

“It’s only the midterm,” Tyler says. “I can – it’s fixable. I’ll talk to my TA.” 

“I can recommend some tutors if you –”

“No,” Tyler says, more sharply than he intends. “It’s fine. I’m fine, I promise.”

Andrew cups Tyler’s face gently and kisses him. After a moment, Tyler reaches up to take hold of his wrists and lets Andrew kiss him until he’s loose in the knees and the hard burning center of anxiety in his chest has cooled. 

 

Tyler keeps going to lectures, because he’s terrified of not going, but he suddenly can’t stand Discussion sections. He manages one for orgo and biochem until his TA takes him aside and asks him if he needs help. Tyler had been _planning_ to ask, but his cheeks flood with heat at the question and he jerks his arm away, telling him thanks, but no. 

He regrets it almost instantly. He can’t bring himself to turn back, though. Instead he flees back to his dorm room and hides out there hating himself until Jamie comes home. They go to the dining hall together and eat quietly. Jamie’s friend Val joins them halfway through with his small posse of Russian friends. Tyler lets their chattering wash over him and forces himself to think about his Athletic Training Practicum, which is the only class he is doing well in and isn’t totally freaking him out. 

He skips the next week’s Discussion section in favor of going to Andrew’s. Andrew is in a good mood, a little more present than he’s been for the last little while, and he kisses like he wants to leave a mark on Tyler’s soul. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Andrew asks, tucking his hands into the waistband of Tyler’s jeans. “Pretty sure you said you have class on Thursdays.”

“It’s not an important class, the TA told me,” Tyler says dismissively. He sets to unbuttoning Andrew’s shirt, focused on getting to that amazing body which he has not had nearly enough of. “Besides, I can get in some practical work for biology and chemistry right here.”

“That is a terrible line,” Andrew says, though he makes no move to stop Tyler. “Use it often?”

“So far it has a success rate of one hundred percent,” Tyler says. “Or at least, it’s successful so far.”

“I’m your test subject, then?” Andrew kisses the corner of Tyler’s mouth. “Sounds like a tough job, but I’m willing to be experimented on.”

“You’re not an experiment,” Tyler says firmly, because it’s suddenly very important that Andrew knows this. He’s already done his experimenting, and he knows he’s definitely into dick. Andrew’s specifically. 

Andrew’s face goes through an odd series of expressions before settling on something wry and almost nervous. “Neither are you.” 

Tyler puts his arms around Andrew’s neck and rests his head at the hollow of Andrew’s throat, which is a bit difficult since Andrew is shorter than him. Andrew strokes his back, squeezes Tyler’s neck gently, and murmurs softly in his ear, “I’ve got you, you’re all right.”

Tyler sleeps for almost four hours after they have sex. He hadn’t realized how wrung out he was until he wakes up and stretches out, his body coming alive. He goes to find Andrew and finds him doing yoga in his living room, body forming a triangle with the floor. Tyler sits on the couch and watches Andrew complete his routine, not wanting to interrupt him. Also so he can admire the flex of Andrew’s ass in his briefs. 

“Are you feeling better?” Andrew asks. “Up for dinner?”

“Can we go out somewhere?” Tyler asks eagerly. “With the girls, if they want.”

Andrew bites his lower lip. “You want to? It’s kind of an – ordeal taking them anywhere. You’ve never experienced them at their worst.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Tyler says. 

He regrets saying that halfway through trying to order. Anna and Stacey both want to order the pineapple fried rice but refuse to get the same thing and are arguing about who gets to order it. Andrew suggests they share it and the two girls shake their heads emphatically. Andrew gives Tyler a look that says, _I told you_. 

“I’ll get pineapple fried rice,” Tyler says, even though he had planned on ordering pho. “Stacey, why don’t you get noodles and Anna can have curry.”

After some further dramatics over which curry Anna would order, they settle in and tell the waitress what they’d like. Under the table, Andrew squeezes Tyler’s knee in thanks. 

Naturally, both girls shamelessly steal rice from Tyler’s plate, leaving Tyler to steal noodles from Andrew’s soup. The first time, Andrew gives Tyler a mildly exasperated look. The second time, he nudges his bowl between them so they can share. 

Tyler and Andrew have to give the girls piggy-back rides back home, both of them complaining they ate too much. Tyler has to resist the urge to laugh at that, since they ate their own meals as well as most of his. Stacey clings to his back, nearly choking off his air supply, and tries to urge him to go faster. Andrew grins at Tyler and takes off running, looking as though the weight of his elder daughter hardly weighs him down at all. Tyler swears under his breath and runs after him, Stacey shrieking in delight in his ear. 

Tyler goes back to BU after getting the girls to bed, and once he’s there he stands in the doorway to his dorm room for a minute, looking at his sad, rumpled bed, the mess on his desk, at Jamie who is plucking tunelessly at a guitar and not looking at him, and realizes he’d rather be listening to the girls thump around the house than be here. He wraps his arms around himself and sighs. Jamie looks up, sees him, and waves before going back to his guitar. Tyler turns around to grab his towel and clothes for a shower, hoping he’ll be ready to face his homework once he’s clean. 

 

The month of March passes largely without note. Tyler continually avoids his discussion sections for orgo and biochem and spends as much time as he can get away with at Andrew’s place. Jamie jokes once that he’s forgetting what Tyler looks like. Tyler shrugs and flees to Marchy’s where he can sit on the couch and no one will ask him where he’s been or if he went to class. Jamie seems to think that Tyler is wasting his abilities, like Tyler has any, and says as much when he catches Tyler skipping. 

Andrew seems preoccupied, which he explains as being stuff with the university. Tyler imagines it must be pretty difficult to be a professor, juggling students and creating exams and meanwhile dealing with departmental drama. He tries not to be a nuisance, even as he starts spending nights at Andrew’s. When, at the beginning of April, Andrew says they need to talk, Tyler laughs and jokes that he hopes he’s not in trouble. It’s a clichéd line and he knows it, but he’s serious.

“No, you’re not,” Andrew says. He sounds very solemn, though, and it sends a shiver down Tyler’s spine. “Just – come over tonight, please.”

“Okay,” Tyler says. “Do you need anything?”

“No, thanks,” Andrew says. “I’ll be home around seven.”

As usual, he doesn’t say goodbye. For once, Tyler doesn’t find it charming. 

He arrives at Andrew’s a little after six and is surprised when Andrew sends the girls to their room as soon as he gets there. Andrew leads Tyler to the living room and sits down on the couch, patting the cushion beside him. Tyler sits warily and folds his hands between his knees. His stomach is jumping with nerves, and he swallows compulsively when Andrew looks at him. 

“I didn’t want to – Tyler, this isn’t –” Andrew groans, rubs his face, and sighs heavily. “Fuck, I’m doing this all wrong.”

“What is it?” Tyler asks. “Just tell me and get it over with.”

“I got offered a position at King’s University in Edmonton,” Andrew says in a rush. 

At first, Tyler thinks he misheard him. He stares at Andrew, hoping for his brain to click in and tell him no, Andrew didn’t say that, it was something else entirely. Maybe he said _I’m moving to Burlington_ or _Inman_. Not Edmonton. 

“Edmonton?” Tyler asks when he can draw in enough air to speak. “Edmonton, Alberta?”

“Yeah,” Andrew says, looking down at his hands. “It’s a good offer. The girls can be close to their mom and I can see my family – I can’t say no.”

Tyler stares at him. “Have you already taken the offer?”

“Not yet,” Andrew says. “And I – I should have told you when they first approached me, but I didn’t want to say anything before – I didn’t think I’d even get the job, they want me to be their department head.” 

“But you’re taking it,” Tyler says. Andrew finally looks up at him and nods slowly. “Is there anything I can say to change your mind?” He knows he sounds pathetic and whiny, but his chest is tightening like someone is pulling his ribs tight and he can’t get his heart to slow down. 

“No,” Andrew says. “This isn’t – shit, that isn’t what I mean. This is just such a good opportunity.”

“So this is it?” Tyler asks, unwanted bitterness creeping into his voice. “Is this your ‘it’s not you, it’s me?’” 

Andrew sighs. “Tyler, you’re in school. You’re in Boston for the next three years.”

“I don’t have to be,” Tyler says, not meaning it even as he says it. Andrew looks stricken, mouth falling open slightly. Tyler isn’t sure what he wants to say, because he loves Boston but he thinks he – well, is he just being a stupid kid to think he might love Andrew, too? He drops his head into his hands and says, with feeling, “Shit.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew says, voice scraping with guilt. “But it’s what I’ve wanted for years. I hated taking the girls so far away from their mom.”

Tyler nods without looking up. He can’t imagine being torn away from his mom when he was the girls’ age, only seeing her for a few weeks at a time. He was lucky his parents had stayed friendly enough that there wasn’t a huge custody battle and that he got to see both of them regularly. Even then it always seemed unfair that he couldn’t see both his parents every day the way he used to, and it took him years to be accustomed to it. 

“We should probably end it now,” Tyler says dully. He doesn’t look up at Andrew, choosing instead to focus on the rage building up behind his teeth, ready to burst the dam of politeness and put-upon maturity. “Shouldn’t we.”

“If that’s what you want,” Andrew says. He sounds so infuriatingly _calm_ , like Tyler’s one of his daughters having a temper tantrum. “It’s up to you.”

“Then we’re done,” Tyler says. “Tell – tell Anna and Stacey I love them and that I’m busy with school.” He hesitates before finally looking at Andrew. He immediately regrets it, because Andrew is biting his lip so hard that it’s turning white and he doesn’t need to see that Andrew is feeling this as deeply as he is. He wants to be angry. He wants to be able to go home and tell Marchy that Andrew was secretly an asshole this whole time and was only using Tyler for his body. Anything other than _it was the adult thing to do_. 

“I’m really sorry,” Andrew says, voice breaking, and that’s too much, Tyler can’t stand it. 

“Fuck you,” he says. “If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t be leaving.”

“Tyler –”

“Good _bye_ ,” Tyler says sharply, and he storms out of the house, hands shaking. 

The first place he goes is Marchy’s, where he immediately breaks into the cabinet with the booze. He makes himself a vodka and coke and pounds on Marchy’s bedroom door until Marchy yanks it open. Marchy starts to yell, then sees Tyler’s face. 

“Jesus Christ, who died?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tyler says firmly. “Get me drunk, please.”

“You’ve come to the right place, my friend,” Marchy says. He turns to his girlfriend and says, “Shannon, let’s go on a booze run.” 

Three hours later, Tuukka is home and has taken control of the stereo system. A bunch of the hockey team has showed up and so, to Tyler’s surprise, has Jamie, who hands Tyler a joint and pats him on the back. Tyler grabs him around the shoulders and says, very sincerely, “I love you best.”

“Is it that guy you’ve been seeing?” Jamie asks, stroking Tyler’s neck gently. 

Tyler stiffens and pulls away. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says before taking a drag off his joint. “It’s no big deal. It isn’t like we were – we weren’t that serious.”

“You weren’t?” Jamie asks. He holds up his hand when Tyler glares at him. “Sorry. Never mind.”

“Just for that, you’re getting me my next drink,” Tyler says magnanimously. 

Jamie has to help Tyler home around eleven, pouring him into bed and taking off his shoes for him. Tyler thanks him by kissing him messily on the forehead and shoving him towards the other bed. Jamie huffs out a small sigh of annoyed fondness – at least, that’s how Tyler chooses to read it – and turns off the light. 

It’s only then, lying in bed and listening to Jamie breathe, that Tyler’s eyes start to prickle, his throat becoming thick. He attempts to swallow back the sob, and when that fails, he rolls over to muffle himself in his pillow. He shakes his way to tearful sleep, clutching his pillow so he doesn’t reach out towards the empty space between his chest and the wall. 

 

Tyler wakes up terrifically hungover and somehow manages to drag himself to the dining hall for coffee and as much bacon as he can fit on his plate. He feels even worse by the time he finishes, but he knows by the time he’s in class he’ll be grateful for the energy. He finishes his homework for his nutrition class in the library, crammed into a corner with his headphones on, and then he takes a nap until he has to run to class. 

He barely takes in a word of class, and when he looks at his notes later, they’re completely incomprehensible. After trying to decode them for fifteen minutes, he gives up and breaks into the beer stash he has in his minifridge. It probably makes him an asshole that he pilfers beers from other people’s parties and squirrels them away for later, but he’s grateful to his past self for the sheer variety. By the time Jamie comes home, Tyler is three bottles in and angrily completing his anatomy assignment while his traitorous memory reminds him that Andrew used to help him study for anatomy by lying on the bed and pointing at different parts of his body. 

“Hey,” Jamie says, sitting down on the edge of Tyler’s bad and taking his bottle of Harpoon away from him. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Tyler bites out. “Great. Doing my homework, look, aren’t you proud?”

“You don’t have to be an asshole,” Jamie says, brow furrowing. “I’m just asking.”

“And I’m telling you, so fuck off, okay?” Tyler tries to grab the bottle back. “Give me my beer.”

“No,” Jamie says calmly, standing up. He takes a long pull and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna go hang out with Val, okay?”

“I don’t need you to babysit me,” Tyler says. “I’m _fine._ ” 

“Right,” Jamie says. Tyler throws his pen at him, which Jamie ducks easily. In retaliation, Tyler steals one of Jamie’s pens and goes back to work. 

He finishes his minifridge stash by the end of the week and starts spending more time at Marchy’s so he can take advantage of the Marchy’s legitimate ID. At first, Marchy seems perfectly happy to have him there. Tuukka isn’t pleased, but then he rarely ever is. 

Most days, he’s fine. He can get up and go to class and not think about Andrew more than a couple of times an hour. Maybe he doesn’t text with Marie-Philip like he used to and maybe he avoids the E towards Northeastern, but he’s fine. Then other days he wakes up and he can’t get up. He lies in bed and stares at the ceiling while Jamie goes about his day. In some ways he thinks it would be easier if they had broken up because Andrew had met someone new or had decided that Tyler was too immature for him. Then Tyler might have been able to think _well fuck him_ or _maybe I could get him back if I tried._ There’s no getting Andrew back from Edmonton. 

It’s one of his shitty days when Marie-Philip shows up at his dorm, somehow having conned someone into telling him which room he’s in. She practically kicks down the door before Jamie gets it open, and Tyler is somewhat cheered by the shellshocked and awed look on Jamie’s face when he realizes who she is. 

“You’re Marie-Philip Poulin,” he says, eyes starrier than an observatory. “Wow.”

“You’re the roommate,” she says. “Tyler – there you are.”

Tyler rolls onto his side and says, “Go away, MP.”

She seizes his shoulder and drags him over. “Why didn’t you tell me you broke up with Andrew?”

“You didn’t even know we were dating,” Tyler says blankly. 

“I’m not stupid,” she says. “He just told me he’s moving to Edmonton and I asked about you and he said you broke up. What the hell?”

“It’s no big deal,” Tyler says. 

“He’s lying,” Jamie says. 

“Fuck off, Jamie,” Tyler snarls. 

Marie-Philip gives Jamie and appreciative look. “I think your roommate is smarter than you are.” 

Jamie pinks and ducks his head. “Well, I live with him.”

“You need to get out,” Marie-Philip says. “I could smell you from the hall.”

“I showered last night!” protests Tyler. 

Marie-Philip eventually coaxes him out of bed and coerces Jamie into coming with them to dinner at Cheesecake Factory, which she claims is her tried and true method of treating heartbreak. She completely ignores Tyler when he tries to say that he isn’t heartbroken. In retaliation, he criticizes every one of her meal choices based on his nutrition class, to which she replies that a) it’s her splurge day and b) it’s the offseason. Jamie watches this whole exchange in something like amazement. When Marie-Philip gets up to go to the bathroom, he kicks Tyler under the table, hard. 

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me you knew her?” he hisses. 

“I didn’t know you cared?” Tyler says.

“She played in the _Olympics_ last year,” Jamie says. “In _Vancouver_. I saw her win, it was _amazing_.”

“Jesus, keep it in your pants,” Tyler says. Jamie glares at him. 

“It isn’t like _that_ ,” he says. “She’s just really cool.”

Tyler rolls his eyes heavenward, even as he spares a moment to be glad that Jamie isn’t making sad faces at him anymore. 

Somehow, Tyler manages to convince the waitress to give him a margarita, and he drinks most of it before the food arrives. He drowns himself in food and eventually cheesecake, choosing the one with apples and caramel on top because what the hell, he’s miserable anyway. Marie-Philip watches him through narrowed eyes and, once Tyler has completely cleaned his plate, asks him how he’s doing.

“I’m fine,” Tyler says firmly. “Better than fine. Crazy full.”

“You need more booze,” Marie-Philip says. “We have some leftover from the championship if you want.”

“I don’t think he should –” Jamie starts. 

“I’m sitting right here,” Tyler says. 

Which is how Tyler ends up drunk in Marie-Philip’s room at midnight, listening to Marie-Philip and Jamie talking and the sound of Marie-Philip’s roommates laughing. There’s a ringing in his ears, and he can’t stop staring at a spot on the carpet where someone has spilled cranberry juice or punch or something. On a night like this he would usually be listening to Andrew putting the girls to bed. He’d be waiting on the couch or maybe in Andrew’s room, and he would be so fucking happy. Stupid, really, to think that it could last. 

Bile rises in his throat, and he makes a hasty excuse before pushing himself up right and beating a hasty retreat to the bathroom. Tyler falls to his knees in front of the toilet and presses his fingers to the back of his mouth. His stomach heaves, and he vomits until his throat is burning and it feels as though he’s thrown up his spleen. His knees ache hollowly from the cold tile floor, but he can’t manage to pull himself up. He rests his hands on the edge of the toilet and manages to flush it before he collapses to the floor. His eyes are leaking, and he wipes at them angrily. He’s not this pathetic. He _isn’t._

The bathroom door squeaks open and someone pads inside. Tyler wants to tell whoever it is to fuck off, but before he can, he hears Jamie’s now familiar sigh. 

“Oh, Tyler,” he says. 

“Go away,” Tyler mutters. 

“No,” Jamie says. A moment later, he sits down on the floor next to Tyler and pulls him upright. He looks so _sad_ that Tyler can’t stand to look at him. He falls forward into Jamie instead, tucking his face into the hollow of his neck. Jamie rubs Tyler’s back gently, stroking his neck and shoulders. 

“You’re really fucked up, aren’t you?” he says. “Shit, Tyler, I wish you had said something.”

Tyler sucks in a shuddering breath and presses his face further into Jamie’s collar. “I really fucking miss him.”

“I know,” Jamie says. “I know, buddy.” He squeezes Tyler tight. “You want to talk about it now?”

Tyler nods and carefully extracts himself from Jamie’s embrace. He pushes himself back so he’s sitting propped up against the wall with his knees pulled in towards his chest and starts to talk. 

Nearly half an hour later, Marie-Philip is sitting in the doorway, hands in her lap, and Tyler’s throat is sore from vomiting and talking for so long. Marie-Philip has thoughtfully brought a glass of water with her, set carefully on the floor between herself and Tyler. He drinks it all in one prolonged gulp and thanks her when he’s finished. 

“So I broke up with him, I guess,” Tyler says. “Or we agreed that we should stop doing – whatever it was we were doing. I was more like a semi-permanent booty call.”

“I’m sure he didn’t think of you that way,” Marie-Philip says. 

Jamie doesn’t say anything. He looks mildly disapproving, though Tyler can’t tell what he’s disapproving of. “What are you going to do?”

Tyler blows out a breath. “No idea,” he admits. “I keep thinking about it and I know it would be stupid to go see him again, but I want to.” He drops his head against his knees. 

“Clean break is better,” Jamie says. “You’ve got the rest of the semester to worry about. Maybe that’ll help?”

“I’m going to fail my organic chem and biochemistry class,” Tyler says, shaking his head. 

Jamie gets a mulish expression on his face. “Not if you _try_ , Tyler. Talk to your TA. For me?”

“And me,” Marie-Philip puts in. 

He glares at both of them. “I’m going to regret you two meeting, aren’t I?”

Jamie goes red as Marie-Philip smiles. She pats his calf and pulls him toward her so she can give him a one-armed hug. 

“You’ll be glad to have us,” she predicts. “I’m sorry about Andrew, Tyler. I thought – well, forget it. It sucks and I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Jamie says. He reaches out to squeeze Tyler’s ankle. “You can talk to me if you need anything.”

Tyler smiles despite himself and feels something inside himself loosen just a bit. 

 

Tyler does as Jamie suggests and buckles down on schoolwork. He’s surprised to find that it works. When he’s busy studying for Nutrition and his practicum, he doesn’t have any time to think about Andrew. He spends most of the week brushing up on his chem so he’s ready when he goes to his discussion section. He doesn’t say much during it, but he does take notes and actually manages to answer a question. 

At the end of class, Tyler waits until the other students have left to go up to his TA and say, “Hey.”

Meghan looks singularly unimpressed by this, but stops putting away her books. “Tyler, hi. I’d almost forgotten what you looked like.”

“Yeah, uh. Sorry about that.” 

Meghan sighs. “You look shitty enough that I’m pretty sure you have a good reason, but you’re going to fail this class, Tyler.”

“I know,” he says. “Look, I – I had some trouble in my personal life and I don’t want to use that as an excuse, but I’ll do anything to pass.”

Meghan eyes him for a moment, tapping her foot against the ground. Finally she says, “All right. I’ll talk to the professor for you, but you’re going to have to come to some make-up sessions with me and I’m going to give you homework. If you get an A on your final, you’ll have a passing grade, okay? As long as you don’t skip anymore.”

“I won’t,” Tyler promises immediately. “I swear. It was just – I’m sorry. No excuses.”

“Good start.” Meghan picks up her phone and thumbs through it. “Can you meet Saturdays from three to five?”

Tyler isn’t thrilled at the idea of giving up part of his weekends, but when he imagines going home and telling his mom he lost his place in the program or he’s going to have to repeat a class, he goes cold in horror. “Sure,” he says. And if they’re on Saturdays, he reasons, even less time to think about – about everything. 

He gets on with it. Meghan is a taskmaster, but the way she explains concepts to him makes sense and he can actually remember the shit she tells him. He barely has time to see any of his friends and once he would have considered that an unacceptable trade, but the idea of losing college too is unbearable. He finishes the semester, somehow passing all his classes, and manages to convince his mom that he should stay in Boston for the summer, in Tuukka’s vacated room, so he can work. He works at a coffee shop that Marie-Philip comes to a couple of times to “say hi” though Tyler’s pretty sure she means “check in.” He meets Jamie’s brother, Jordie, who has a very large, very ginger beard, and they go to Boston Calling together and smoke weed in the summer sun. 

Towards the end of summer, he realizes that he’s forgotten what exactly Andrew’s tattoos look like. By October, he’s forgotten what Andrew smells like. By December, he can smile at a guy during a party and not feel weird about it. Jamie, who he’s living with once again, rolls his eyes and tells Tyler to put a tie on the door if he’s going to hook up. Tyler laughs, but doesn’t take him up on the suggestion.

The years, as it happen, pass more easily than Tyler could have imagined. He gets through the rest of his years of university. Maybe he parties a little too much, and maybe he spends a lot of sophomore year being a dick because he’s so stressed from class and working with the hockey team for credit, but he somehow manages not to completely alienate his friends, even if Marchy does stop talking to him for about a month that spring. Tyler apologizes after only minimal nagging from Jamie, and he considers that a win. 

He graduates. His parents make nice at the ceremony, and they all have dinner in the North End at a place Tyler never could have afforded on his own. They help him move into an apartment with Marchy and Adam out in Cambridge. He tells them if he doesn't have a job in a year, he'll come home. He doesn't mean it. 

Tyler’s lucky: he picks up a job as a physical therapist's receptionist within a few months, and she's nice enough to let him watch her work with the patients when he's not busy. Naoko even tells him she'll help him go to graduate school for physical therapy if he wants. After a year of working for her, he agrees, and ends up in a master’s program at Mass General.

It sucks being back in school, but he has fun despite it. He keeps his head down and doesn't party as hard as he once did, though when his classmates invite him out for a drink, he doesn't say no. He goes out on a few dates. He sees a few of the guys a second time. He never does get to a third date.

"Jesus Christ, Tyler," Brad says when Tyler comes back from another failed second date with a sheepish expression. "You can't keep waiting for someone perfect.”

"I'm not waiting for anyone," Tyler says. "I just haven't found the right person yet."

Brad looks like he wants to say something, but for once in his life he keeps his mouth shut. He gives Tyler a one-armed hug and leaves him alone in the kitchen. Tyler sits down at the kitchen table and drops his head into his hands. He’ll call Jay back, he tells himself. Maybe try out that running group Jay says meets at Harvard Stadium. 

Keep pretending, and he’d relearn to be himself again. Or something. 

 

Jay and Tyler date for about three months before amicably calling it quits. Jay works nights at Beth Israel and Tyler is so busy with school and work that he hardly has time for himself, let alone dates. He runs with the November Project at Harvard Stadium when he’s not exhausted from class and finds himself making new friends – an excellent development, as it turns out, because Marchy and Shannon decide to move in together a little after Tyler’s twenty-fourth birthday, and Marie-Philip had long ago relocated to Montreal to play for the Stars. Tyler invites one of the guys he met at Harvard Stadium, a guy a little older than him and coincidentally also named Tyler, to take Marchy’s room. Jamie pretends to be offended that he wasn’t asked, but he’s living out in Allston with his brother, and after four years of living together in college, the two of them aren’t all that thrilled at the idea of any more.

Brownie, as Tyler takes to calling his new roommate to save confusion, introduces Tyler to Chase. Chase is broad and handsome, all chiseled features and smooth, darkly tanned skin. He’s a swimmer in his free time and it shows in his muscle tone. Tyler may or may not drop a glass of water on himself the first time he sees Chase. Brownie grins when he sees that and tells Tyler that Chase does, in fact, like guys. 

The next time Tyler sees Chase, they end up making out in the back of the bar they’re at, Tyler practically in his lap. It’s good. It’s _really_ good. 

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Chase says when they break apart. 

“I’m hot? _You’re_ hot,” Tyler says, gesturing to all of Chase’s body. “Look at you.”

“I bet half the people in this bar would switch places with one of us,” Chase says, grinning. 

“The other half want to be in the middle,” Tyler agrees. 

Tyler lets Chase fuck him, face buried in his pillow and his hands gripping hard to his sheets. After, Chase makes them eggs and brings them to bed, saying that they need protein after burning that much energy. It’s cute, so Tyler represses the small part that wants to pipe up with a whole bunch of nutrition information and takes the plate. 

Chase is remarkably sweet. He drops by Naoko’s office on Thursdays, when Tyler works late, usually bringing take-out so Tyler can eat while he updates patient information. Sometimes Tyler pretends he’s found a tense muscle in Chase’s back and gets him on one of the tables so he can give him a massage. He’s too conscious of how good Naoko is to him to do anything more, but he loves the way Chase is after those massages, loose and dreamy and relaxed. 

“You should give this physical therapist stuff up and just become a masseuse,” Chase says after Tyler has reduced him to six feet two of limp muscles. They’re at Tyler’s place this time, so Tyler rolls Chase over and straddles him, grinning. 

“But how will I meet a rich, closeted athlete and become his trophy husband?” Tyler asks, rocking down against Chase’s lap. “You’re cute and all, but that teacher’s salary isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

“Gotta keep you in the style to which you’ve become accustomed, huh?” Chase teases. 

“I like diamonds, dear,” Tyler says. 

He takes Chase out to dinner with Jamie and Marie-Philip the next time Marie-Philip is in town. She brings both her gold medals, because she’s an asshole, and shows them off to Chase. Chase shrugs, points out that he’s American, and shakes her hand. 

“I like him,” Marie-Philip says to Tyler. 

Jamie, who bought a Boloco franchise with his brother the year before, is the most flush of all of them and is nice enough to spring for their meal. Of course, this doesn’t come without strings, the primary one being that he tells Chase all the embarrassing stories he has on Tyler. Given they lived together for four years, there are a lot of them. 

“— and that’s when there’s a knock from _inside the closet_ and this guy calls, ‘Sorry, can I come out now?’ And when I say yeah, he’s totally naked.” Jamie is laughing before he finishes. Marie-Philip has lowered her head to her arms, back shaking with laughter. Tyler groans and rubs at his face, knowing he’s probably bright red. 

“He doesn’t need to know all of these,” Tyler tells Jamie. 

“No, tell me everything,” Chase says, leaning across the table. “Tyler hardly talks about college.”

Marie-Philip lifts her head and glances at Jamie. “Yeah, well,” she says. “It isn’t the best time for everyone, right?”

“It was tough,” Tyler says shortly. “I wouldn’t redo it. Not worth it.”

“You’re probably the only person in the world who would say that,” Chase says. 

“Well, I might redo it and do an easy as fuck degree like Media Studies or something,” Tyler says. “Though that’s a lot of writing, I’ve heard.”

Chase laughs and wraps his arm around Tyler’s shoulder, kissing his head. “You get to hobnob with the athletes, though, right?”

“That reminds me,” Marie-Philip says, kicking Tyler lightly. “Can I drop by your office tomorrow? I’m working through a thigh strain and I don’t want to miss too many days of PT.”

“Sure,” Tyler says. “Mention us in your next interview, though.”

The topic changes to Marie-Philip’s team and what she’s been doing with Team Canada, but Chase has the same thoughtful look on his face until they get back to his place in Brookline. Tyler is taking off his shirt and putting it in the drawer he has mentally designated as his when Chase finally asks what’s clearly been on his mind. 

“So why _don’t_ you talk about college?” Chase asks. “Were you studying all the time or something?”

“No,” Tyler says. “I mean, I did study. But not all the time.”

“So a guy?” When Tyler doesn’t respond right away, Chase says, “That’s it, isn’t it.”

Tyler sighs and shoves the drawer shut. “Sort of. It sucked and I don’t – I’m fine with it now but I was fucked up for a while there. It isn’t something I love dwelling on.”

Chase is watching him when Tyler turns around, brow furrowed. After a moment, he gets up from the bed and wraps Tyler in a hug, tight and inescapable. Tyler lets his head rest against Chase’s chest, breathing in the smell of his crisp soap, and spares a moment to be grateful that Chase doesn’t push. Chase kisses the side of Tyler’s face and then takes him to bed, gentle until Tyler snaps and starts pushing back, wanting more than the slow, generous fuck Chase is trying to give him. He isn’t _broken_. His heart may have been for a few months – okay, maybe a year – but he isn’t pining. 

Tyler goes down on Chase after he’s pulled out and thrown the first condom in the trash, mouthing leisurely at him until Chase starts pushing up, hardening again. Tyler isn’t wild about the taste of latex, but Chase prefers it, saying he can’t preach safe sex to his students if he doesn’t practice it. Tyler’s hoping at some point they can have a talk about it and move into the trusting-you-don’t-have-STDs part of the relationship.

Chase apologizes after he comes for fucking Tyler’s mouth, like that isn’t what Tyler wanted to begin with, and kisses Tyler soundly. When he finally lets Tyler go, Tyler says, “I’m happy, okay?”

“Okay,” Chase says. “I believe you.”

Tyler pecks his nose. “Good.”

 

Three days later, Marchy gets engaged, which Tyler finds out when Marchy bangs his way into Tyler’s apartment using his old key, screams, “ _Segs_!” and then, “ _I’m getting married_!”

“Holy shit!” Tyler yells, jumping out of bed. Chase groans and rolls over. “Holy shit!” 

He runs out into the living room and seizes Marchy in a hug, lifting him clean off the ground. Marchy is laughing too hard to protest like he usually would. Tyler sets him down, punches him in the shoulder, and says, “You didn’t even tell me you were going to propose!”

“I didn’t,” Marchy says. “Shannon did! So you have to come with me to find a ring for her.”

“Okay,” Tyler says. “And after that – champagne. All the champagne.” He raises his voice and hollers, “Brownie! We’re having a party tonight!”

Tyler and Marchy look for rings for almost two hours before they find one that Marchy deems acceptable for Shannon. It’s not as flashy as Tyler would choose, but he has to admit it suits her when Marchy slides it on her finger later that night. They’re both crying, which Tyler would tease them for if it weren’t for the fact that he’s crying too. He hugs both of them, kisses Shannon firmly on the cheek, and thanks her for putting up with him all these years. 

“Well, I’m getting my own back because you’re going to be one of the groomsmen, right, Brad?” she asks, glancing at him. 

“Of course,” Marchy says. “Not best man, my brother’s got that one, but you’re definitely second best man.”

“I’ll take it,” Tyler says. 

It’s one of the better parties Tyler and Brownie have thrown, everyone sharing in Shannon and Marchy’s good mood. Jamie brings a ton of burritos from work, and Marie-Philip even drops by with a cake from Cheesecake Factory. Tyler sits on Chase’s lap for most of it, passing a champagne glass back and forth. He’s feeling giddy; Marchy is the first of his college friends to get married and Tyler couldn’t be happier for him. He can’t wait to totally embarrass him during the reception. 

“Do you think you’ll get married?” he asks Chase after everyone has left and it’s just Adam snoring on the couch, Brownie having retreated to his room. 

“I always thought I would,” Chase says. “A big party with the person you love? Sounds like fun. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler says honestly. “My parents got divorced when I was young, so – I don’t know, it always seemed to me that you’d have to be careful. Really know that they’re the one for you.”

“Do you think Marchy and Shannon are it for each other?”

“I think so,” Tyler says. “And more importantly, they think so.” He gets off Chase’s lap and holds out his hand. “Come to bed?”

 

Marchy and Shannon set their wedding for August of the next year. Tyler does not write the date in his phone, because that would be silly. He writes it in bright blue on a piece of paper that he tapes to his bedroom door. Chase thinks it’s adorable and Instagrams it. 

Tyler spends the holidays up in Canada with his family, spoiling the crap out of his sisters and giving his mom back massages since she’s always complaining about her shoulder pain. New Year’s is spent at his dad’s, as per tradition, and they set off a few illegal fireworks at midnight. Chase calls him a little after that and wishes him happy New Year, voice slurred and joyful. 

Tyler turns twenty-five at the end of January and after a wild, raucous birthday party, Chase mentions his lease is expiring in February. Tyler, high on birthday celebrations and cake, suggests they try living together for a bit. 

“I mean, my place is up in June,” he says. “Maybe we could get a place together.”

“Shouldn’t you ask Brownie?” Chase asks. 

“Probably.” Tyler leans over, bangs on the wall dividing their rooms, and hollers, “Brownie! Is it cool if Chase moves in with us for a couple of months?”

There’s a pause. Then Brownie yells back, “You’re not allowed to fuck on the couch!”

“Oops,” Chase whispers in Tyler’s ear. 

So Chase moves in late in February, his boxes taking up the rest of the space in Tyler’s room. They’re not really sure what to do with them. At first it’s kind of funny, banging his knee against boxes every time he gets up to do homework in the living room while Chase grades homework on the bed. Tyler suggests getting a wardrobe or even one of those storage shelves for his stuff, but Chase never seems to have the time to go look for anything and so the boxes remain. Eventually Tyler stops studying at home and spends more time at the library or hangs out at Naoko’s office after hours to get work done. 

Even though he’s been out of college for three years now, Tyler is still a late riser, since he doesn’t start at Naoko’s until ten and all his classes are at night. Chase, on the other hand, is an obnoxiously early riser and is even earlier to bed during the week. Tyler starts going to November Project events again just because Chase getting out of bed wakes him up and he can’t go back to sleep. Running is soothing, wearing away all his petty complaints about how Chase organizes the fridge wrong and takes too long in the shower. He likes Chase, but he forgot how moving in with someone exposes you to all the flaws you wish you didn’t know about them. 

Early in May, Tyler arrives at Harvard Stadium bright and early, fighting off the yawns that threaten to crack his jaw. Chase had woken up around five to finish working on the final exam for his students and the sound of his typing had woken him up. Tyler’s asked him to work in the living room when he wakes up early, but Chase has this strange and hilarious ability to be almost completely asleep but be able to grade. Tyler had slept another hour on the couch before heading out to Allston. It’s looking to be a gorgeous day, the sky perfect, clear blue and the breeze just crisp enough to chase the heat. Tyler stretches down on the track, waving at the people he recognizes. The girl Brownie has a crush on is there, and Tyler talks to her for a bit, trying his best to big up his roommate. If she agrees to go out with Brownie because of Tyler, Tyler might be able to parlay that into a date night for himself and Chase. 

He’s doing a low lunge when he hears a girl’s voice shout, “Tyler!” He straightens up and turns to see an unfamiliar blonde girl running towards him. She looks to be about thirteen, all legs like she’s going through a growth spurt, and it takes her saying, “It’s me, Anna!” for him to realize who she is. 

“Oof!” he says as she barrels into him. He hugs her automatically, resting his chin atop her head. “Anna Ference, you have grown up!”

“So have you!” she says, leaning back to look up at him. “Hi!”

“Hey there,” he says. “What on earth are you doing in Boston?”

“Oh, we’re moving back here,” Anna says casually, turning to look over her shoulder, and Tyler briefly goes light-headed. When he has recovered himself, Anna is saying, “—and Mom’s retired now, and anyway Dad’s been giving classes at Northeastern for the last couple years anyway because they want him back and to head the department this time so we’re looking at houses –”

“Is your dad _here_?” Tyler interrupts, hoping he doesn’t sound too horrified. 

“Yeah,” Anna says, rolling her eyes. “He _promised_ that if I came to all of these for one month we could get a dog. Hey Dad!” she yells over her shoulder. “Look who it is!”

Andrew emerges from a small crowd of athlete types and waves at Anna. Tyler knows the exact moment Andrew sees him, because his wide smile vanishes and is replaced by a forced rictus of good humor. Anna seems oblivious, still smiling, as her dad comes over and says, “Hi.”

Tyler holds out his hand. “Hey,” he says. “Nice to see you. It’s been a while.”

Andrew shakes his hand, very solemnly. “You too. You look – well.”

“Thanks.” Tyler can’t help his reflexive glance over Andrew, who doesn’t look noticeably older at all, though he must be near forty now. His hair is cut shorter on the sides than Tyler remembers, and there’s a new scar on his left eyebrow, just barely visible. 

“You got a tattoo,” Andrew notes, pointing at Tyler’s left arm. 

“A whole sleeve,” Tyler agrees, pushing up his shirtsleeve to show him. “A family tree, see?” He points at the names of his sisters and parents. 

“That’s nice,” Andrew says. “I see you’ve found Anna.”

“Yeah, she says you’re moving back to Boston,” Tyler says. “Looking for a place?”

“We’re looking, yeah,” Andrew says. “I thought you would have – so you stayed here?”

“I’m working with a physical therapist in the area,” Tyler says. It’s amazing how normal he sounds, he thinks. Anyone listening to their conversation would think it was a normal meeting between two old friends. “Going to school. I like it here, though. I think I’ll stay.”

Andrew nods and smiles a little. “I always thought Boston suited you.”

“Hey, hey!” Anna says excitedly, poking Tyler in the ribs. “People are starting!”

Tyler runs slower than usual up the stairs to keep pace with Anna and Andrew. Anna has to take a couple of breaks, clearly not used to it. Tyler’s usually pretty competitive about his times, and he can tell from looking at Andrew’s face that he probably is too. But he’s happy to stay back with Anna, encouraging her to tell him about the kind of dog she wants to distract her. 

Anna collapses at the foot of the stairs at the end, telling them, “Leave me, I’ve died.”

Andrew pulls her up and says, “Don’t forget to stretch,” before glancing at Tyler. “If it’s okay, Tyler and I are going to race.”

“Fine,” Anna says, grumpily moving into a forward bend stretch. “Go show off.”

Andrew laughs and ruffles her hair. Tyler waits until they’re a little bit away from her to ask, “So we’re – good?”

“We can be friendly, right?” Andrew asks. “Six years is a long time.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Where are we racing to?”

“Ten sections?” Andrew suggests. 

“Agreed.” Tyler holds out his hand so they can shake on it. Then he says, “Ready, set, go!” before Andrew has a chance to recover, and he takes off up the steps. 

He nearly falls down the last three steps of the tenth section, touching the track just as Andrew touches down next to him. Tyler rolls onto his back like Anna, laughing breathlessly. 

“Tie?” he says. 

“You cheated,” Andrew says, giving him a hand up. “But yeah. Sure. It’s a tie.”

They walk back to Anna in companionable silence, not touching the way they once might have. It’s less awkward than Tyler might have thought it would be, but then he’s spent six years being careful not to think much about Andrew. It must have worked better than he thought, because he still thinks Andrew is attractive but he isn’t dwelling on it. He’s thinking about going to work and then coming back home to Chase, who’ll probably be fucking annoying thanks to not sleeping and will probably burn dinner as he starts to nod off in front of the stove. And he’s happy about that. 

“See you next week?” he says finally. 

Andrew smiles and nods. “Next week,” he agrees.

 

Tyler doesn’t mention that Andrew is back in town to anyone out of the thin hope that he might get away with it, but of course Marie-Philip knows he’s back and mentions it to Jamie, who mentions it to Marchy. Marchy brings it up while Tyler is helping him pick out his tux. Tyler thinks a cummerbund is a terrible idea, something only fat old men wear, and that it makes Marchy look even shorter than he is. Marchy thinks it’s dignified and classy. 

“But you _aren’t_ dignified and classy,” Tyler points out. 

“It’s my wedding, I can pretend.” Marchy adjusts his bowtie thoughtfully. “So,” he says after a moment, “I hear that Hot Dad is back in town.”

Tyler drops the hanger he’s holding. “Who told you that?” he demands. 

“You knew already?” Marchy says, frowning. “I just heard from Jamie, he said to bring it up carefully.”

“That was careful?” 

“I could have ambushed you while you were with your boyfriend,” Marchy points out. 

Tyler has to concede that point. “I saw him at Harvard Stadium,” he says. “He does November Project too.”

“How cute, you’re part of the same cult,” Marchy says. “And?”

“And it was fine,” Tyler says. “We’re friendly, I guess. His daughter was there!” he adds when Marchy’s eyebrows remain raised. 

“Never stopped you before,” Marchy says.

“I’m dating Chase,” Tyler says. “It’s been _six years_. I’m not still hung up on him.”

“Okay,” Marchy says. “I just – you know.”

“You _worry_ about me,” Tyler teases, ruffling Marchy’s hair. “Like you’re my _dad_.”

“Fuck off,” Marchy says, smacking his hand away. “But you should tell Chase.”

“Chase doesn’t know anything about Andrew,” Tyler says. “Why would he need to know?”

“He’d probably want to know,” Marchy says. “I know I would, if it were, like, Shannon’s high school boyfriend. I know I’m hers and all but it would be nice to know.”

“Fine,” Tyler sighs.

So when he gets home, he sits down next to Chase on the bed and tells him, “That guy I dated in college, he’s back in town.”

“Back?” Chase asks when he looks up. “What?”

“That’s why we broke up, he moved.” Tyler pokes at Chase’s knee. “He does November Project.”

“Okay,” Chase says. “Do you want me to beat him up?”

“No!” Tyler says. “We’re friends, I guess, I just – Marchy thought I should tell you even though it’s really no big deal.”

“All right,” Chase says. “Thanks for telling me, I guess.”

Tyler snorts and kisses him. “Okay. I’m going to order dinner, anything in particular you want?”

“Dumplings,” Chase says in a rapturous voice. Tyler grins, amused and pleased by how easy it is to please Chase. He gets up to order on his laptop before picking up the studying he neglected to help Marchy with his fashion. 

Tyler passes the last few weeks of his graduate program studying during the week, running on Wednesdays to try to find a vent for his stress that isn’t sex or booze, and fucking Chase the rest of the time. He knows he’s being a little clingy and needy, but the hard knot of anxiety he remembers from college has wedged under his ribs again. He keeps wondering what he’s going to do once he finishes, if Naoko will let him join on with her or if he should try to find someone else to partner with. He’d like to work with her, since he feels like he owes his degree more to her than to his professors. His parents have been making noise about him coming back to Canada and getting a job up there. 

“There are plenty of athletes in Canada too,” his mom says once before he manages to distract her with news about Marchy’s wedding planning. 

The idea of going home is appealing, but over the last, god, almost seven years, Boston has become home. He knows and hates the summer humidity and loves the apple-picking in the fall. He loves that they’re close enough to Canada to drive up for a weekend if they want, and that he can go to New York whenever he wants. He loves Dunkin’ Donuts and the Red Sox and the Bruins and “Sweet Caroline” and bitching about snow during the winter, even if he’s dealt with worse in Brampton. He sees himself making a life here, maybe with Chase, finding a home somewhere and making it his. He likes that idea. 

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” he asks Chase after he hangs up with his mom. 

Chase sets aside his grading to consider the question. “Career-wise, or life?” 

“Either.”

“I don’t know.” Chase smiles a little. “It’s weird, this is the longest I’ve lived anywhere in my adult life. I like teaching here, but I always wanted to go to California.”

“California?” Tyler asks in surprise. “Do you think you’ll go?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Chase shrugs. “I could end up anywhere. I could still be here. Probably still be a teacher, I guess. I’ve thought about going to graduate school and getting a MA so I can teach college.”

“You don’t know?” 

“I’m happy right now,” Chase says. “But that could change. You never know.”

Tyler frowns at him and looks down at the thank you letter he’s writing to his adviser who helped him through his program. He presses his thumb over the shining ink of his signature. When he pulls it away, it smudges just a little. 

“Are you okay?” Chase asks. 

“Yeah,” says Tyler. “I’m fine.”

He can’t stop thinking about it, though, and even running that Wednesday isn’t able to drive his questions from his mind. He had thought, when Chase said he’d like to get married, that they were on the same page: a drive towards settling down. He’s young, sure, but he wants to get his roots in deep and make his home. He thought Chase was the same, but now he’s wondering if he had misinterpreted Chase’s ready agreement towards moving in with him. He knows tons of couples who live together just for financial reasons and without any sort of future plans. He doesn’t want to be one of those cautionary tales of couples who move in after too short a time and end up with a mess of a lease and having to mooch off kind friends until they find somewhere new to live. 

Andrew notices that he’s off and asks about it as they’re stretching afterward. Tyler shakes him off and says that it’s nothing, voice sharper than he means. He knows he probably sounds as stupid and childish as he did at nineteen, but the last thing he wants is for Andrew to try to offer him relationship advice or something. His life is perfectly together now, no matter what Andrew might think. 

“Have you given any further thought to us living together?” Tyler asks when he gets home that night. 

“Yeah, a bit,” Chase says. “I think we’d be good together, don’t you? We haven’t killed each other yet.”

Tyler takes a deep breath. “I just – I think maybe I rushed into things a bit.”

“Okay,” Chase says slowly. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s just – well, I think we should give it a bit more time before we do this permanently,” Tyler says. “I think I’m going to renew my lease here. I’ll help you find a new place, if you want.”

“This was your idea,” Chase says. 

“I know,” Tyler says. “I know, I thought it was a good idea – but I –”

“Did I do something wrong?” Chase asks. 

“No! I just think we don’t want the same things!”

“I want to be with you, isn’t that enough?”

“No,” Tyler says. “It isn’t. I mean, that’s nice –”

“Wow,” Chase says, voice getting sarcastic now. “Do you have the guys falling over you so much that you don’t care if I love you?”

“Do you love me?” Tyler asks. 

Chase stares at him, eyes narrowed. “No,” he says finally. “But I thought I wanted to.”

“I’m not saying we should break up,” Tyler says. 

“Well, I am,” Chase says. “I passed up a lot of things to be with you, Tyler, and now you’re just kicking me out?”

“I just don’t think we should live together right now!”

“Do you think we _ever_ should?”

“I don’t know!”

“Well maybe you should!” Chase pushes himself to his feet, chest heaving. “And if you don’t, is that maybe a clue?”

Tyler groans and rubs his face. “Fuck, Chase, this isn’t what I meant.”

“Why don’t you come find me when you figure it out?” Chase says, and he pushes his way past Tyler towards the apartment door. Tyler swears and hits the wall, annoyed at himself for not knowing how to phrase what he wants to say. Brownie pokes his head out of his room and asks if everything’s all right. When Tyler glares at him, he rapidly retreats.

Tyler doesn’t see Chase for three days. He’s chagrined to realize that he doesn’t particularly _miss_ him. He likes waking up next to someone and it is always nice to have someone to come home too, but he doesn’t spend his days at work wondering what Chase would say about this patient or if Chase has listened to that album Tyler gave him yet. On Sunday, Tyler takes the train out to Chase’s best friend’s place and finds Chase watching TV on the couch, hair mussed. He’s beautiful, Tyler thinks, and yet Tyler doesn’t particularly want to kiss him or fuck him. 

“Hey,” he says, sitting at the end of the couch. 

“Hi,” Chase says. 

Tyler looks at his hands and says, “Tell me about what you gave up for me.”

Chase sighs. “I was just trying to make you feel shitty.”

“I know, but you don’t make shit up.” Tyler pokes him. “Did you turn down a job offer?”

“A few,” Chase admits. “I thought – I mean, I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to just leave you either.”

“You should do what you want,” Tyler says. “Relationships shouldn’t be the only thing in your life.”

“Jesus Christ, I thought you were a romantic when we first met,” Chase says. 

“I _am_ , but it can’t be your whole life! Because if it goes to shit, then what do you have?” Tyler holds out his hands. “A whole fat load of nothing. You should love everything in your life.”

“So should you,” Chase says. He sighs and covers his face with his hands. “I’ll come pick up my stuff later this week, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” Tyler says. 

“It’s probably for the best,” Chase says. He beckons Tyler close and kisses him once, harsh and desperate. “Now leave, please.”

Tyler does as he’s told. 

 

He is a bit of a zombie at work, to the point that Naoko sends him home on Tuesday, telling him to get some sleep. He sleeps through November Project on Wednesday and spends the rest of the day watching _#Selfie_ on Netflix. He should probably be sadder, he thinks, and he is _sad_ but he knows that he’ll be better soon. The quiet and freedom is refreshing, at least for the time being. 

Chase moves out, but Tyler keeps finding his socks and strands of his hair everywhere. Part of him wants to collect them, like a shrine to say, _he was here_. The sensible part of him tells him to throw it all away, which he does. 

“At least this was a normal break-up, by your standards,” Marchy says when Tyler tells him. “Though I think you’ve completely fucked our seating chart.”

“He might want to come anyway, you’re friends too,” Tyler says. 

“We’re really not,” Marchy says. “I’ll ask Shannon if we’ll still need you to bring someone.”

Tyler laughs and takes the scrapbook of wedding decoration ideas Marchy is supposed to be looking over. “Sorry.”

“I should have known,” Marchy says. “A good-looking boy like you? Too handsome to stay taken for that long.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tyler says primly. “I’ll have you know I’m a _romantic_.”

Marchy snorts and snatches the scrapbook back from him.

On Wednesday, he goes back to Harvard Stadium to run the steps and stretches next to Andrew without talking. As they’re getting ready to start, Andrew asks where he had been the previous week, and Tyler shrugs it off, saying he’d had an off day. 

Andrew frowns, no doubt remembering what a hot mess Tyler had been in college, and Tyler quickly switches topics to, “So did Anna get her puppy?”

Andrew’s face lights up. “Yeah, she did,” he says. “Gorgeous chocolate lab named Marshall. She and Stacey are over the moon. You want to meet him?”

“Absolutely,” Tyler says. “Our building doesn’t allow dogs.”

“You can come – uh, I’ll bring Anna and Stacey next week so you can meet him,” Andrew says. Tyler doesn’t think he’s imagining the faint flush on Andrew’s cheek. He knows he’s blushing too at Andrew’s near-slip, the casual return to the way they used to be. 

“That sounds fun,” Tyler says. “I’m going to beat you today.”

“Bet you five bucks you don’t,” Andrew says. 

“You’re on,” Tyler says.

By the time they finish the 100 section challenge, they’re both breathing hard and soaked with sweat. Tyler hands over the five-dollars without complaint, since Andrew beat him by a wide margin, and then collapses into a heap. Andrew sits on his thighs and counts his money loudly, just to annoy Tyler. 

“You’re pretty good for an old man,” Tyler says, voice muffled by the race track. 

“You’re not bad for an out-of-shape lump,” Andrew says. He rises to his feet and gives Tyler a hand up. “Same next week?” 

Andrew wins again the next week and the rematch that Tyler asks for. Tyler hands over the five with no small amount of bad grace. He’s beginning to think he should stop making bets with Andrew, who is a competitive asshole. He’s mollified by the presence of Anna and the truly adorable Marshall, who is just a ball of dark fluff. Tyler snuggles him, talking in babytalk to him until Anna complains that she wants her puppy back, please. 

“You should move somewhere that allows you to have pets,” Andrew says, watching him. “You obviously love dogs.”

“I just renewed my lease,” Tyler says regretfully. “And I don’t think I’m home enough.”

“Well,” Andrew says, “I hope – this isn’t me trying anything, but you’re welcome to come hang out with Marshall if you want. He could use the spoiling.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tyler says, even as Anna’s face lights up in delighted joy. 

“Oh, _please_ ,” Anna says. “I know Stacey would like to see you again. You were our favorite babysitter.”

“I barely babysat you,” Tyler says blankly. 

“Really?” Anna frowns. “It seemed like you were there a lot.”

Andrew and Tyler exchange glances. Andrew clears his throat and announces that they’d better be going. He gives Tyler his new number and their new address before saying goodbye, gathering up Marshall to head to their car. Tyler watches them go and then mentally smacks himself. He’s better than this. 

Since Marchy’s brother lives in Canada, it’s up to Tyler to help him out with all the wedding planning shit. His spare time, now that Chase is gone and he’s finished his grad program, is mostly going with Marchy to venues and possible caterers. The latter he doesn’t mind, and he and Marchy make a lot of hmm noises so they can go to more until Shannon cottons on and makes them pick one. He helps with the cake, too, and even ends up going with Shannon to get her wedding dress. 

“Are you _crying_?” Shannon’s maid of honor asks him in disbelief when Shannon comes out in the dress they all agree is the one.

“ _No_ ,” Tyler says fiercely. “I think I’m about to sneeze.” When she looks away, he wipes discreetly at his eyes. 

Marchy and Shannon’s wedding is set for the first week of August, and two weeks before it, Shannon calls Tyler in a panic, saying that the person they had asked to fill Chase’s seat couldn’t come anymore and did Tyler know anyone who’d want to come? Tyler asks around, but Jamie is busy and Brownie is out of town that weekend, so he starts setting his sights a little further afield.

Around Fourth of July, Naoko had officially asked him to stay on as a junior member of her practice, and Tyler agrees. It’s weirdly more satisfying to get his paycheck after that, proof that he’s got his shit together, mostly, and is an employed adult and everything. He works with a lot of college students, especially college athletes, and it’s kind of fun to look back at what he used to be like and see just how much he’s changed. And Naoko is great to work with, friendly and always smiling no matter what has happened that day. He asks her if she’ll be his date, but she laughs him off and says she’s never even met Marchy and it would feel weird.

Asking Andrew is one of those strange mental absences that he decides to blame on the presence of a puppy. He hasn’t yet taken Andrew up on his offer to drop by to see Marshall, but sometimes Andrew brings him to November Project anyway. It’s a good incentive for the people who show up: the faster your time, the sooner you get to cuddle with Marshall. 

“He likes getting out, but it’s a nightmare getting him downstairs,” Andrew says, scratching behind Marshall’s ears. “He’s afraid of elevators.”

“Smart dog,” Tyler says. He rubs under Marshall’s chin and makes a face at him. “Elevators are scary, right, Marshall?”

“Don’t traumatize my dog,” Andrew says, laughing. “He’s already nervous.”

“Poor puppy.” Tyler steps back and finds himself saying, “Hey, I have a question. Maybe more like a favor.”

“Sure, what is it?” Andrew asks. 

“Marchy’s getting married,” Tyler says. “I’m in the wedding party, but they’ve reserved – I broke up with someone, so there’s an empty space.”

“Are you asking me to come to Brad’s wedding with you?” Andrew asks, smiling faintly. 

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “I guess I am.”

Andrew looks at Tyler for long enough that he twitches under the scrutiny. Finally, Andrew nods and says, “Okay. Let me know when it is.”

“Err, it’s next Saturday,” Tyler says. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Andrew says. “I can figure something out.” 

“Thanks,” Tyler says. “I’ll text you the details.”

He doesn’t freak out about it until he tells Marchy that Friday, and then he bends over his knees and starts breathing hard. Marchy rubs his back and says, “You asked _Hot Dad_?”

“It just kind of came out,” Tyler tells his ankles. 

“Well, you said you’re friends now, right?” When Tyler nods, Marchy says, “That’s okay, then. But don’t expect me to be nice to him.”

“Marchy –”

“He made you sad,” Marchy says. “I don’t have to like him.”

“Could you, I don’t know, pretend?” Tyler asks. “For me? This is going to be weird enough as it is.”

“I’ll play nice,” Marchy says grumpily. “For one night.”

“Thank you.” Tyler rubs at his face and says, “So your brother is about to come in and kidnap you, which I’m not supposed to tell you, but I just wanted you to be prepared so you don’t try to kill anyone.”

“Bachelor party?” Marchy asks eagerly. “Hell yes!”

Tyler is distracted from his own poor decisions by copious drinking and daring Marchy to do things like jump in the Charles and buy a jumbo pack of condoms from CVS. They turn a few of the condoms into water balloons and try to have a water balloon fight on the Commonwealth Avenue Mall just to stave off the summer heat, and then adjourn to a bar for the logical conclusion of the night. 

Marchy is rambling about how much he loves Shannon when they finally drop him off at home. Shannon is still out at her own bachelorette party, so Tyler and Marchy’s brother wrestle him into bed before putting a trash can next to him and leaving. Marchy isn’t super trashed – Tyler has definitely seen him worse – but he knows in the morning they’ll all be feeling it. 

Brownie takes pity on him in the morning and treats him to breakfast. Tyler eats a giant plate of eggs and hashbrowns and drinks an even larger amount of coffee. By the end he’s feeling alive enough to go for a run down the Emerald Necklace, jogging off the alcohol and the lingering anxiety from the memory of asking Andrew to come with him. He throws himself into work, volunteering to stay late and sort through patient files so he won’t dwell on it, and he’s almost tricked himself into forgetting about it until Wednesday when Andrew asks him if they should carpool. 

“Oh,” Tyler says. “I don’t have a car.”

“I was thinking we could call a cab,” Andrew says. “You probably have to get there early, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “I guess – the wedding ceremony is at five p.m., so maybe we’ll go at three?”

“Where do you live now?” Andrew asks, and he’s casual and offhand about it but Tyler’s stomach tenses anyway. 

He cleans his apartment when he goes home, like Andrew’s going to come in, and ignores Brownie asking him what the hell he’s doing. It’s normal to be nervous about being in a car with his ex-something on the way to _a wedding_. It’s his own damn fault they’re going to a wedding, of course, but he can ignore that. 

The day of the wedding, Tyler sleeps in, showers, and dresses in his suit, careful to tuck in his shirttails and adjust the lapels of his jacket so that they’re lying flat. The groomsmen had been allowed to buy their own suits as long as they were a certain cut, so they were spared the fitting ordeal that the bridesmaids had gone through. He think he looks rather sharp, really. He adjusts the knot of his tie and goes to wait for Andrew. 

Andrew arrives precisely at three, because of course he does, and he’s wearing a dark grey suit with a pale purple shirt. He looks, well, delicious, and Tyler realizes that he’s never actually seen Andrew dressed up like this before. He swallows hard and goes out to meet him on the steps to the building. 

“Ready?” Andrew asks. 

“One of my best friends is getting married,” Tyler says. “I’ve been ready for ages.”

At the church, he leaves Andrew to make nice with Marchy’s parents and goes to find the groom himself. Marchy is quietly freaking out in his dressing room, asking what if Shannon realizes he’s a total fuck up? What if he says the wrong words? Tyler and the other groomsmen patiently wait for him to run out of words, then shove him out into the chapel. 

It’s a lovely, quiet ceremony, not too long and perfectly elegant. Marchy doesn’t forget his words, although he does look like he’s going to cry when he lifts Shannon’s veil and sees that she’s already crying. Tyler can’t stop smiling, his cheeks aching, and when he catches Andrew’s eye, he sees that he’s beaming too. Instead of throwing rice, the wedding party has secretly bought bubbles to blow as Marchy and Shannon go down the steps to their limo, which everyone knows is really just a precursor to the wedding night hotel room. Tyler blows some bubbles straight into Marchy’s face and laughs when Marchy wrinkles his nose. 

The reception is at a hotel a short distance away, and after the wedding party photos are done, Tyler finds Andrew again, ready to suggest they get a drink. Andrew’s already beat him too it, though, and silently hands Tyler a bottle of Sam Adams. Tyler thanks him and drinks half of it in one go. 

“Thirsty?” Andrew asks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

“Ready for cake,” Tyler says. “Thanks for coming.”

“I’m glad to.” Andrew looks down at his own bottle of beer. “I’m glad we can be friends. The way things ended – it isn’t how I wanted it to go. I hope you know that.”

“I was kind of a jerk,” Tyler says. “Even at the time, it made sense, but.” Even now he can’t bring himself to confess that he had probably been in love with Andrew back then, but from the way Andrew looks at him, he thinks Andrew might be able to guess, at least a little. 

“I should have talked to you first.” Andrew laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “I should have done a lot of things differently.”

“Do you regret it?” Tyler asks curiously. 

“No,” Andrew says. “I don’t regret moving, that was the best decision for the girls and for my family. But – leaving you and my friends here? Of course I wish I didn’t have to do that.”

“Not that,” Tyler says. “Us. Do you regret it?”

Andrew’s eyes widen. “Of course not,” he says. “I should have – I kept forgetting how young you were and I should have been more careful with you, yeah. I had no idea what I was doing, you know? I never thought I’d date someone until the girls were grown, or at least in high school, and never someone that young. You kind of – changed everything. But regret you? Never.”

“Oh,” Tyler says, and they fall into awkward silence, both of them picking at the labels on their beer bottles instead of looking at each other. Finally, Tyler blurts out, “I missed you,” and immediately feels his face going red. 

Andrew looks up at him, startled, and he opens his mouth to say something just as Marchy yells for Tyler to come over for another picture, right now, please! Tyler hurries away grateful, not certain he wants to know what Andrew had been about to say. When he chances a glance back, Andrew is watching him. 

Tyler is sitting at the wedding party table, Andrew at the table just to the left, and throughout the meal and toasts Tyler avoids looking at him. Tyler does give a toast, spilling some embarrassing stories from college about Marchy but telling the story of how Shannon and Marchy took care of him when he was going through a rough time. 

“They’re great friends,” he says, “and they’re going to make a great family one day. Congratulations, both of you.” 

“Dude, that was nice,” Marchy whispers when he sits down. “Thanks, eh?”

“Just don’t prove me wrong, okay?” Tyler says. 

Marchy and Shannon’s first dance is to Drake, since they wanted to be different, and Tyler is singing along until Andrew comes up to him and offers a hand. 

“Dance?” he asks, and yeah, other people are joining the dance floor, but Tyler hadn’t really planned on it. He looks from Andrew’s hand to his face, then reminds himself that he’s twenty-five years old. He can be an adult about this. 

“Okay,” he says, taking Andrew’s hand. 

Andrew holds him close, though not close enough to touch anywhere except their hands. Still, Tyler can smell his aftershave, is reminded of nights lying beside Andrew in bed and thinking that he had found his place in life. He hadn’t known what that was back then, hadn’t realized that he was more than the person he loved. He has a job he loves and friends and Boston now. It would be nice to have that and Andrew too, he admits to himself, if they still worked together like they once did. 

“You’re different,” Andrew says towards the end of the song. Tyler had forgotten that Andrew is shorter than him, and that he has to look down to meet Andrew’s eyes. “You seem happier.”

“I think I am,” Tyler says. “I feel happier.”

“It’s funny,” Andrew says. “You never seemed sad before.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Guess I didn’t know you as well as I thought.”

Tyler sighs and drops his hands, unwilling to have this conversation with an audience. “Maybe.”

“Sorry,” Andrew says, stepping away and looking as though he’s going to retreat. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore.”

“I’m not that different,” Tyler says. “I promise.” He looks around, then gestures Andrew to follow him. 

He’d found the terrace on the second floor when he was helping Marchy and Shannon look for venues, and they had discussed putting a bar up there or something, but decided against it. There are still a pair of couches, though, and the view overlooks the river. It’s beautiful this time of night, the last hints of sunset disappearing over the horizon. Tyler leans against the railing and looks out towards the city. A moment later, Andrew joins him, a careful two feet away. Neither of them speak at first, admiring the view in lieu of having a conversation. 

“It really fucked me up when you left,” Tyler says. It’s easier to say when he isn’t looking straight at him. “I mean, that wasn’t the only thing that fucked me up, but I had turned you into my whole support system and that wasn’t fair for either of us. You had daughters and a job and a life and I was being so selfish about you and your time. I just wanted so badly to belong.”

“In Boston?”

“No,” Tyler says. “With you.” He turns towards Andrew and says, “I used to tell myself that it could never work because of the girls. I was nineteen and I was sleeping with a _dad_. And I wanted it so much but I knew I wasn’t good enough.”

“You were good enough,” Andrew says fiercely. He reaches out as if to take Tyler’s hands, then thinks the better of it. “You were so young, yeah, but – it felt like home when you were there. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Tyler stares at Andrew, at the light from the hotel painting his profile gold, then turns Andrew’s face towards him and kisses him firmly. Andrew starts, hands hovering between them, then rests them on Tyler’s chest. It’s as sweet and delicate as Tyler remembers, and his chest aches suddenly for all the years between this kiss and the last one they shared. 

“Shit,” he says when they break apart. “I just – sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Andrew says. He drops his hands to his side and tries a smile. “Why don’t we go back inside, take advantage of the open bar, and call a cab back home after we’ve eaten so much cake we can’t move?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tyler says, grateful for the easy out, and he follows Andrew back inside, feeling lighter than he has in days. 

It’s a fun reception, all of them blindingly happy and high on sugar and drunk on the many, many cocktails the bartenders foist upon them. Tyler dances with Shannon three times, Marchy twice, even takes the flower girls on a whirl around the floor before he trips and they end up climbing all over him, throwing leftover flower petals down his shirt. He doesn’t kiss Andrew again, though he wants to, and he teaches Marchy’s mom how to do a Jaegerbomb. 

“Best wedding,” Tyler tells Marchy sincerely as he leaves around midnight. “No one will ever beat this.”

“Damn right!” Marchy says, pulling Shannon in against his side. She gives Tyler a thumbs up and then kisses Marchy messily, with lots of tongue because they know it grosses Tyler out. 

Tyler and Andrew pile into a cab and take it back to the city without speaking much. Tyler gets dropped off first, and as he’s leaving, he thanks Andrew again for coming. 

“It was my pleasure,” Andrew says. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “See you on Wednesday.”

Tyler manages to get all the way to his bedroom, shedding his suit along the way, before he pulls out his phone. He sits cross-legged on the bed and stares at Andrew’s number for what seems like ages before he finally pulls up the courage to tap out a text. 

_Hey this is tyler from the t :)_ he sends. 

After a few nerve-wracking minutes, Andrew sends back, _Hey Tyler. Nice to meet you. :) I hope we can get to know each other better_.

 _Maybe over dinner?_ Tyler suggests. 

_How about Tuesday night?_ Andrew asks. _Meet at the Haymarket stop?_

 _See you then,_ Tyler sends, and he lies back in bed, smiling.


End file.
